


Whose Woods These Are

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Exhaustion, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Found Family, Gen, Grief, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I swear the comfort is coming, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Like a Gratuitous Amount Of Hugs, Lucretia Whump, Melodrama, Mending Relationships, Misunderstandings, Near Death Experiences, Post-Canon, Protectiveness, Recovery, Regret, Reluctant friends, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Violence, Triggers, Warning: This fic contains violence against a person of color, Whump, at some point in the distant future, but it does get better, its a long time coming, like a lot of swearing, obligatory taako and lucretia make up fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 39,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Lucretia believes it is her lot to deal with these attempts on her life quietly, quickly, and alone. She can handle it. Seriously. She's got this under control.Taako begs to fuckin' differ.Or: There's nothing that helps facilitate character development more than desperately trying to keep someone from being murdered.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first TAZ fic I've written and I do so after binging a bunch of 'Lucretia is depressed and needs her family to help" fics, which are my jam. On a serious note, this contains candid discussions of suicide, depression, and guilt. Lucretia deals with cognitive distortions, and she doesn't do it well. Murder attempts are made.

It’s not as if Lucretia _ means _ to invite the assassination attempts on her life. 

As Madame Director, she’d known that her life was forfeit to the fight against the Hunger a long time ago. She’d also known that many would try to end it before she could ever get far enough to be killed by the monster of her own horror story. In those days she had something to fight and people to fight for. Lucretia is many things, a wizard, a liar, the savior of the world; a survivor is something she made herself be for a very long time. 

Before the Day of Story and Song, she had Davenport to protect her- and he had, three separate times, and those are only the times she knows of. He learned quickly to keep his knives sharp and his eyes sharper. Lucretia wonders now if he remembers those moments at all- the time he found her with blood running down her temple and a sword to her throat, or when she’d almost swallowed poison laced wine until Killian had knocked it out of her hand, or when she’d almost been thrown off a cliff as some messed up sacrifice to the Hunger. (She can’t exactly muster any anger towards those terrified townspeople, since she ruined the entire godsdamned world for the same reason. Davenport still mauled a few of them on her behalf.) 

After the dust settles, though, Davenport leaves without a backward glance and Luctreia assumes he doesn’t believe it matters anymore. She is inclined to agree.

After all, her job in this world is done; why would anyone want to kill her now? 

Or, to amend that last statement, there are many reasons someone - _ Taako _ \- would want to kill Lucretia. Almost ending the world, dooming countless people to death, ripping her family apart, mind-wiping people; Lucretia knows the extent of her mistakes and she knows she must pay for them. Many people would want to kill her. 

It doesn’t take her long to realize she’d quite gladly let them. But Lucretia has always been a woman to play by her own rules, and she won’t go down without a fight- not if it isn't the right person. The random victims have claim on her life, sure, but there are others who deserve their pound of flesh first.

The second week after the Day of Story and Song, when the night terrors have ripped her screaming from unconsciousness, and the light is low and her thoughts are churning, Lucretia writes a list.

It’s not hard to put the first name down: Davenport is the one she’s harmed the most with her pathetic stunts. Davenport deserves to deal the final blow the most, and she wouldn’t even argue if he wanted to cut out her tongue just as she effectively did to him before he killed her. 

The next few are harder: Magnus should probably be next, since he lost Julia and Lucretia did nothing to stop it. But Merle lost his chance at fatherhood. Or should it be Lup, since Lucretia took away any chance of her being found? (That one stings the most; Lucretia was the keeper of her family’s memories and shouldered that responsibility willingly, but to become the unwitting warden of Lup’s hellish prison? It makes the acid in her stomach flood her throat every time Lucretia thinks about it.) Or Taako, who didn’t even know he had a sister to save? Barry, who knew the extent of her crimes and could do nothing to punish her for so long?

In the end, Lucretia gives Lup the second spot but Magnus is a close third. Taako goes next, and Merle after him, since Merle at least knew he had family. Barry brings up the rear, even though Lucretia would be very willing to have him deal the first blow, if only because he at least got to wiggle out from under her thumb before most of the others.

It doesn’t matter to Lucretia’s frantic, emotional thoughts in the night if any of these people  _ want  _ to kill her. They are the ones who deserve to kill her. It’s only right that they get the proper time frame to enact their justice.

But after- if there is an after- if they  _ don’t _ kill her. Then. Then Lucretia will be more than glad to answer to the rest of her crimes.

So when the first one slips into her office late into the third week after the Hunger’s defeat, Lucretia does not scream. She does not run. Why should she? The man is here for a good reason, even if she cannot fulfill his request.

The Bulwark Staff leans against her desk two inches from her left hand when the man rushes her. Lucretia tips her head up, but doesn’t bother to mind the blade that pricks the delicate skin of her neck. The tip glistens with her blood where it rests against her calm pulse. Lucretia folds her hands on her desk and meets the other’s gaze head on. Something in her placid expression makes him blink, disturbed.

There is a moment of silence. Lucretia straightens the paperwork- relocation and allocation of funds to those who wish not to remain with the Bureau now that their war is over- without glancing down. She folds her hands again and knows she has enough magic in her to blast this man to kingdom come even without her staff. 

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Glares at her and presses the knife more tightly to her skin. Lucretia arches a delicate eyebrow. “Yes? How may I help you?”

“You took everything from me,” he whispers, and oh, but his voice is so young. He can’t be much older than Angus and her heart twists. “Everyone I loved- gone, because of you.”

“I apologize,” Lucretia says, not insincerely, “I do tend to do that to people. It’s a terrible habit. Am I to assume you wish to correct the error of my continued existence?”

“I’m here to kill you,” he confirms. But something she’s done- her steady gaze or the Bulwark Staff lingering menacingly in the background or her calmness or maybe even the sadness she allowed to leak into her tone- just this once, just to allow him this glimpse of reality- has made him hesitant, fearful. He is only a child, after all, and Lucretia feels like taking the knife and doing his job for him for what she has reduced him to. 

But she has responsibilities, and more people than him to answer to.

“At the risk of sounding trite,” Lucretia says mildly, “I suppose the right response to that is ‘get in line.’”

In the end, he is easy to subdue. She barely notices the tremor in her hands as she lifts his unconscious body into the transport and sets a course for him to Neverwinter. He’ll be able to get a good night’s rest with her sleeping spell in his system, and Neverwinter will take care of him from there. She doesn’t plan to tell any authorities about his attempt on her life, although she does suppose she’ll have to make sure security is tightened. Her life is already forfeit, but it won’t do to have the rest of her crew endangered. Lucretia has put too many people into danger for her own sake for one lifetime.

Lucretia goes back to her quarters and adds another name to her list. His name is Daniel. He is eighteen. Her mistakes killed his parents and his little brother. 

Lucretia will be waiting for him. She will wait for them all to come. And they _ will  _ come.

Too soon, she realizes she won’t have to wait very long.


	2. Chapter 2

The second attempt is much more of a hassle because they use poison. They use  _ belladonna _ , the bastards. If Taako ever found out-

But Taako won’t find out. No one is going to find out. No one needs to know about this, after all. It’s Lucretia’s problem, Lucretia’s responsibility. Taking care of herself- not forcing the job onto anyone else- is the least she can do after everything she’s already put them through, after all. 

The second assassin doesn’t strike until months after the first. She’s been- well, to put a fine point on it, Lucretia has been getting a little tired of waiting to die. She’s ready. She’s  _ been _ ready. And yet, against all odds, Lucretia is alive.

The list has been gathering dust in her drawer. Davenport has not returned from his wanderings, so he isn’t around to do it. Merle and Magnus are chasing happiness- hell, they both write to her, happy little notes devoid of any substance. She keeps waiting for the letters to fill with vitriol, anger, passion. Instead, Magnus asks if she’s ever considered getting a dog.

(She has, but there’s something wrong with her, something inside of her is deadly to living things. Everything she loves she turns to dust. She can’t turn that on a harmless animal. She has a responsibility to contain her own poison touch.)

Taako doesn’t write. Sometimes Lucretia catches sight of his new cooking show on fantasy Food Network. The first time she realized it was Taako on screen, she’d sat down and binged the entire season. But when the screen went blank and she caught sight of her own over-bright eyes in the reflection, Lucretia had quickly decided it was a bit voyeuristic to keep watching and never turned it back on. Still, she hears his ratings are off the charts. He’s writing a new cookbook. 

Lup and Barry are the same radio silent as Davenport, although she suspects they spend time with Taako the most. It makes sense, after all. She’s taken so much time away from the twins, they’re probably inseparable now. 

She’d taken so much time from them all- but they aren’t taking advantage of the time she’s given them. Months now, and no one has come to collect on her debt. Lucretia is ready to pay; the price hangs heavy as an albatross around her neck but no one comes for the toll. The list is starting to yellow, crinkle at the edges. What is she to do if they don’t collect?

_ Find Daniel, _ Lucretia’s mind tells her sensibly.  _ Pay the price to him. Give him what peace you can. _

It’s the logical next step, after all. Go down the list until she finds the one who will take what she offers freely. Sometimes Lucretia wonders if she should’ve just taken Daniel up on his offer the night he managed to slip into her office. 

Still, it’s a difficult thing to wait to see which old friend- she can't allow herself to call them family, not anymore-will come for her. Not that Lucretia could ever blame them for not wanting to come into contact with her- there are many days, most days, all days- she wishes she could get away from herself. There is something so strange in hating yourself; Lucretia doesn’t remember a time her skin didn't crawl as if it were sentient, as if it wanted to tear free of her. Sometimes it gets to be too much; the ache of her self-disgust beats such a tattoo against her ribs she looks down when she changes into her nightgown and is surprised to find no bruises. Her blood feels close to boiling from the heat of her hatred. She wants it to end- she wants _ her  _ to end.

And yet, Lucretia lives. She lives, and she works and she tries not to pay attention to that ever deafening voice in the back of her head asking how long she expects to go on like this.

_ Not long, _ she promises.  _ Not long. Just another day- someone will come tomorrow. I can give them all justice tomorrow. _

Finally, she has to admit to herself the reality of her situation. Lucretia’s given them four months to kill her and no one has lifted a hand. Daniel will be getting impatient with her, and Lucretia cannot blame him. She is not one to run from her responsibilities. 

_ I’ll give them one more month,  _ she bargains.  _ Then something must be done. _

It’s only when she really thinks about it that Lucretia realizes her error. 

“Oh, of course, you dolt,” she murmurs. She’s staring down at yet more paperwork, dealing with a landslide just outside of Neverwinter. The realization comes like the rocks slammed right into her. “They don’t want to touch  _ you _ .”

Why would they? After all, Lucretia is incredibly aware of the blood she drenched their hands in on her own behalf. Taking a life leaves scars on a person and hasn’t she already vowed to stop harming those she loves? They haven’t come because they can’t be bothered to kill Lucretia; it’ll leave too much for them to remember. If she waits for them to kill her, if she forces the task on any of the other seven birds, Lucretia will be forcing them to live with her memory dogging their footsteps to the grave. If she truly wants to make a clean break, if she really cares for them, she’ll make sure to leave them an out, a way to move on from her. 

Still, she’ll wait one more month. Just in case someone changes their mind. It’s the least she can do.

Recently Lucretia, if she were to be honest, has not been at her prime. She’s losing sleep- night terrors are a bitch- and she hasn’t been eating. It’s hard to swallow when your heart rejects the very idea of letting someone like yourself continue to exist. Lucretia’s mind has to agree; she doesn’t deserve to live, so why bother helping her body continue to survive? Her stomach roils at the very sight of the dinners Avi has taken to pushing on her; even her internal organs riot at the idea of Lucretia walking around for another day. Her very blood demands the price of her guilt to be paid in full and Lucretia is bewildered, even with her recent epiphany, why none of the others have come forward to exact their vengeance. She can barely hold herself back from turning the Bulwark Staff on herself on the good days.

_ One more month, _ she tells herself.  _ Eat for one more month. Sleep for one more month. Then you can stop. Then you can stop. _

She’s idly considered adding Avi and Killian and Carey to the list for what she’s putting them through. Avi in particular must be growing to hate her picky eating, if nothing else. 

Lucretia throws herself into work, the only respite she has left. She can’t foist off her responsibilities to the Bureau on Killian and Carey just yet; they’ll have plenty to do once she’s gone. She can at least give them a nice honeymoon and a lighter workload while she’s still around. Not that those two are grateful for it, the little wretches, she ponders fondly. They’re always at her door these days, wondering if she needs help with anything, if she’d like to take a quick break and walk the grounds with them, really Madame Director, when was the last time you left your office?

It’s just Lucretia now, she’s wont to tell them, and I’m just fine here, thanks. Just fine here.

So it’s almost a relief when someone tries to kill her again.

It’s two days into the first week of her last month when Lucretia accepts a bowl of soup absently, unable to risk tearing her eyes away from her paperwork. She’s been going over the yearly finances for her clerics for the past few hours and she needs to get this right before Killian gets here to force her to bed. 

Lucretia has barely spared a thought to be glad that Avi sent a young orc woman to feed her in his stead and avoid an argument about her eating habits before she’s gulping down a spoonful and the taste of belladonna is lingering on the back of her tongue. 

“Poison, really?” Lucretia asks the orc when she raises her head, eyeing the dagger at her waist. “How droll.”

“It’s fast acting,” the orc leers. She’s by the door- _ good woman,  _ Lucretia thinks,  _ easy escape in case she sees Madame Director reaching for her spellslots _ \- but she can’t seem to tear herself away from the sight before her. It’s quite unsettling, to be watched so closely, but Lucretia supposes whatever she’s done to this young woman, the orc deserves a little entertainment. Still, she could look a little less gleeful about it. “No muss, no fuss.”

“Silverpoint would have been faster.” Lucretia mumbles, rising to her feet. She only stumbles slightly. “And no cure, so there’s that.”

Lucretia can see the hesitance in her eyes before the orc scoffs. “It's too hard to get a hold of.”

“Fair enough. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to kill me at this time, but that simply gives you time to find that silverpoint venom, eh?”

Her would-be assassin looks taken aback and Lucretia has to stifle a hysterical giggle. Oh boy, it looks like the pain is spreading to her head already. She hopes she can get to the bathroom before she vomits; Carey would have a field day if she ruined her new carpet. It was a birthday gift.

“You’ll never stop us coming for you. You’re a monster, and monsters deserve to be put down. It’s only a matter of time before we get to you.”

Well. That’s unnecessarily dramatic.

“And I don’t intend to stop you my dear,” Lucretia explains gently even though she’s trembling and a sweat is breaking out all over her body and the edges of her vision are darkening. She’s forgotten exactly how terrible belladonna is. “But you see, I just can’t do it this month. Next month, perhaps. I could schedule an appointment, if you like. If I could get your name?”

But it seems that when she stumbles forward and has to catch herself on her staff Lucretia has worn out her guest’s patience, and the orc whirls to shove open the door. She glares balefully back at Lucretia, who tips her head politely in goodbye.

“We are nameless, and numberless.” The orc hisses. “And we will see our creed through.”

“But of course,” Lucretia agrees. “I’m sure you’re all very capable. See you next month?”

The orc looks on the verge of attacking, but then her head jerks to the side, listening. In a moment, she is gone. Lucretia is left with nightshade cloying in her throat and far more questions than she is comfortable with.

She descends the steps to her desk, cursing her own ostentatious sense of interior design all the while, and only makes it halfway across the room before her knees give out. Lucretia hits the ground hard, moans, and clutches her stomach. If she can just get to the cleric on duty in the infirmary, she can ask him to perform Protection from Poison and still have enough time to finish her paperwork before lights out. She’ll say it’s a training exercise, or an employee evaluation. She’ll think of something just as soon as her thoughts stop insisting on being so hazy.

Lucretia gets back up, takes three steps, and falls again. This time she bangs her head on the leg of a chair and swears colorfully. Lup taught her that.

_ Why do I have so many fucking chairs? _

For a moment Lucretia is so, so tired. It would be so easy to stop. She’s already on the ground, the poison is already spreading. She could wait for it to take effect, she could just let it happen. She could finally rest.

_ This isn’t about you. You have debts to pay. Now get off your ass. _

Lucretia gets up. 

It only takes a minute or two before she’s made it to the door but to Lucretia it might have been an hour or a day. Sweat pools in the dip of her collarbones, runs down her back.

“This sucks,” she mutters, leaning on her door jamb and debating just turning around to fetch her farspeech stone. 

“That’s what she said,” says a voice Lucretia thought she may never hear again. Her head whips up and she has to steady herself as her vision swirls. Fucking nightshade.

Taako strides towards her on sure feet. For a moment, his beautiful face is twisted into the sneer Lucretia has become accustomed to seeing directed in her vicinity. But then something changes- she’s not sure what. But his eyes catch on her face, trail down to where she’s clutching her hip after landing on it in the last fall. He looks at her eyes and Lucretia darts hers down; her pupils are probably dilated. 

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hail and well met to you too, Taako. Did you need something? It’s late.”

She can’t let him know what happened. It’s  _ belladonna _ ; it would kill him. Or he might find and kill that orc for bringing nightshade near him. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what Lucretia has done to him.

_ Maybe he’s here to kill you,  _ pipes up a hopeful voice.  _ Maybe it really can end tonight.  _

_ He can’t now. Not with belladonna in my system. If he finds out after, it’ll crush him. _

“Whatever. Magnus said you haven’t been answering his letters and sent me to kick your ass into gear. So. Y’know. Get on it.”

“Right,” Lucretia says. Vomit tries to push past her throat and she swallows it valiantly. “Letter. Okay. Good talk.”

Taako huffs, flips his hair over his shoulder. “Glad we’re on the same page; I’d hate to have to come here and see your ugly mug again. Although if you need that ass kicking, just let me know.”

“Any time,” Lucretia offers, and her tone isn’t joking. Taako, who was in the process of turning away, slides his eyes to her for another moment. Oh god, she’s going to pass out if he doesn't leave soon.

“Who was that I saw leaving? She took off in a hurry.”

“A client,” Lucretia invents quickly. “Nothing too big, just making an appointment for next month. Was there something else you needed?” Oh, talking makes it worse.

“Are you- I mean.” Taako shifts from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. Of course he’s uncomfortable, Lucretia is here. He has the right to be uncomfortable. “You look like shit, compadre.”

“I just fell, Taako.” Lucretia tries for a smile, feeling shaky. She’s not sure if she manages it. “I’m old. That’s what old people do. I’m on my way to the clerics now.”

“Oh. Well.” Taako’s gaze drifts to her hip, snaps up to her face, takes in the sweat and feverish heat in her cheeks and the trembling in her limbs. He’s always been too observant for his own good. “Okay.”

He turns on his heel and leaves before she can say goodbye.

Lucretia shrugs, and limps her way to the clerics. She goes back and finishes her paperwork. She tidies her office before pulling out her list. Under Daniel's name, she pauses and, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, writes _Bella._


	3. Chapter 3

Lucretia is a fucking  _ liar _ .

Taako supposes that shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but the sharp sting of her distrust still startled him. The fact that he could see right through her that night was telling; she’s losing her touch.

Not that Taako cares much, anyway. He hasn’t seen the Director since he went to yell at her for  Maggie a week ago and he has to say, he’s feeling great. His show is doing well, he’s writing another book. He has an adorable boyfriend and a loving sister to hang out with. Merle is going to host a fantasy barbecue next week and Taako is planning on bringing dessert. He’s fan-fucking-tastic, thanks for asking. He’s definitely not thinking about the darkening bruise on Lucretia’s temple she didn’t even seem to notice. Or the way her clothes were rumpled or the sweat glistening on her throat or the way her eyes were wide and a little bleary and definitely too red. Nope, Taako honestly hasn’t thought about that at all.

“Fucking shit,” Taako mutters. Gods. He’s gonna have to go back, isn’t he? He hates being noble and shit but the _ bruises _ on her  _ face _ . He blames Magnus for this guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach. A hundred years ago he wouldn’t have even noticed. 

“Not like she doesn’t deserve that shit.” 

Her eyes were really wide. He could see the whites all around her irises. Her pupils were blown. She hadn’t met his gaze for long but he’d seen that. Lucretia was definitely drugged and she hadn’t mentioned a thing. 

_ So drugged she’d fallen down.  _

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Taako argues with himself. He’s staring blindly down at his recipe book, the one he’d let Lucretia leaf through only once on the Starblaster. She’d handled it like a newborn fawn, all light touches and careful fingers. She’d run her fingers over his chicken scratch in the margins, reverent. Her eyes had been so young and so wide. She’d smiled like the rising sun. “Madame Dickweed can handle herself.”

The bruises. The fever. The eyes. She’d leaned on her staff and the wall like neither could be trusted to keep her upright. She’d smiled and it looked like death. 

_ There was a stranger in there with her,  _ says a voice that sounds too much like Lup in his head.  _ The orc. She ran when she saw you _ .

“Lucretia’s allowed to have friends that aren’t us.”

But that isn’t true, is it? Lucretia doesn’t have  _ friends _ . Lucretia doesn’t hang out with strangers. Hell, Taako hasn’t spoken with her since the Day of Story and Song but he could probably still rattle off all the people Lucretia is comfortable with by rote if you asked. And there’s no way Killian wouldn’t have vetted anybody new trying to muscle into their Director’s life before now. And for Lucretia to be comfortable enough with someone to be drugged around them? Fuck, Taako doesn’t think that’s even  _ possible _ . And there's no way in hell that was a client, not that late at night. Taako himself was only there that late because he'd been putting off his favor to Mags all the last week and hoped he could miss Lucretia and claim innocence if he came in the middle of the night.

_ So who was that? _

Someone who left Lucretia alone with a fever and the shakes and dilated pupils. Someone who saw the bruises and walked away. Someone who heard Taako coming and bolted. 

And he can’t even really blame them for it, because hadn’t he done exactly the same thing?

“It doesn’t matter! She doesn’t matter anymore! She took my life from me and it isn’t- isn’t fair that she gets to sit up in her fucking ivory tower all the time!” Taako whirls away from his cooking and has to stifle the urge to sweep his supplies off the counter. Instead, he slams his fists down on the tiles and relishes the dull pain in his hands. “Maybe she, she deserves it, whatever happened! Huh? She fucked up the world and then she helped save it and, like, that’s it? Everything’s just a-okay now? Fuckin’ fuck that shit."

_ But she was drugged. And that shit couldn't fly, no matter who did it to whom for what reason. He's seen enough of his people under the influence and out of their own control to recognize it when he sees it.  _

“Lucretia ain't my people anymore! She’s done some fucking evil shit to a lot of people. And she’s so high and mighty, all ‘oh, Taako, I never meant to hurt anybody and I’m sorry for that but I don’t regret trying to save you.’ Fuck off! It’s normal for me to be angry. I’m not the bad guy for being angry. I shouldn’t have to talk to her, godsdamn it.”

There were bruises on Lucretia’s face. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

He calls Magnus. No one picks up. He should have seen that one coming- it’s Magnus’s day with Angus because the universe hates Taako. He calls Merle.

“When are you gonna go see Lucretia?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Merle replies idly. “I’m actually kinda traveling with Cap’n’port right now, but I was thinkin’ of visiting when I get back next week. Girl’s been quiet and she hasn’t answered my invitation to the grill out on Friday. You’re goin’, right?”

“Yeah, of course I am, idiot,” Taako replies on autopilot. No Magnus and no Merle. No Davenport, not that he’s really even an option at this point. He’s not gonna ask Lup or Barry for help with this ‘cause fuck that noise. He’s not giving Lup any in to grill him about his feelings and shit when it comes to Lucretia. Taako doesn’t know how much Avi or Killian or Carey know already but they’d just tell Lucretia he’s been asking about her anyway. Oh godsdamn it. Its gonna have to be him, isn’t it? “Listen, she’s been acting fucking weird, so like, come fix her when you’re back, okay?”

“Lucretia’s always been weird,” Merle says airily. “She okay?”

The bruises on her face. She was shaking. She smiled and it was empty.

“Yeah, ‘course she is. It’s just pissing me off because she’s got nobody else around to complain to but me. You gotta take her off my hands, man.”

Merle laughs. “I’ll see what I can do, buddy. See you on Friday?”

Taako confirms and hangs up.

“Gods damn it,” Taako mutters, staring at his farspeech stone without seeing it. “Gods fucking damn it, Lucretia.”

Then he sucks it up and calls for transport to the Bureau of Benevolence. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you haven't written action scenes in a while and it's super obvious. Also this chapter contains my headcanon that the Bulwark Staff isn't entirely non-sentient, just a heads up. 
> 
> me: *puts up a new chapter*  
AO3: Hhhnngg gonna have to go down for thirty minutes

Two weeks.

“You can make it,” Lucretia tells herself. She places one palm on her solar plexus, takes a breath, holds it. She lets it out through her mouth, slow and steady. “Two weeks. You can make it for two more weeks.”

It didn’t seem like any of the Starblaster Crew were going to take her up on her tacit offer of retribution. For a while after Taako appeared at her door she’d been- well, not hopeful but...was it strange to say excited? On edge, maybe. Anticipation made her heartbeat ratchet up for days afterward. 

But then he’s simply failed to appear again. Perhaps she’d scared him off. Lucretia knows from experience that planning to do something horrible and acting it out were two very different things. 

“Not that killing you is horrible,” she reminds herself. Years ago, that idea might have stung but Lucretia has had plenty of time to get used to the fact that she is unworthy of the air she breathes, the space she takes up. Now it is a dull ache, like pressing on a day-old bruise to see if it has healed. The knowledge Lucretia must die is an old friend; she’d even go so far as to call it a comfort- something true through and through and inescapable as the Hunger was for years. But not half as terrifying. 

No, what is terrifying is the fact that Lucretia has to last two more weeks. This is torture, all of it: the eating, the sleeping and the looking at herself in the mirror and trying not to vomit. There are scratches on her arms that have been there for months. She keeps reopening them and getting blood on her sleeves. She’s using up at least two spellslots a day just to make sure her clothing isn’t alarming when it’s being laundered. Another spellslot for keeping the food down (or keeping Avi from noticing her getting sick; he’d just fret and hem and haw and put Lucretia on a broth diet and she doesn’t need the special treatment). 

Lucretia is also getting headaches more often these days. It might be a side effect of the belladonna- she had refused to give her clerics anything to worry about but that might have backfired on her. Protection from Poison is effective but not kind. But she didn’t exactly deserve to take up the precious medicine it would take to relieve her symptoms, not when they were dealing with an unexpected wildfire near Raven’s Roost still. Lucretia is up here, safe and sound in her cozy office with a headache while the people down there are burning and starving and hurting. She can spare a few painkillers. 

But the headaches stay and she’s down a few spellslots and she’s not sleeping still. The night terrors are getting worse, not better. Usually Lucretia can’t remember exactly what goes on in them, but the last few-

_ Sparks of light, a laugh that cleaves the sky in two, a flash of white, a smile too wide for the face it is set in, the screams are so LOUD- _

“Enough.” Lucretia snaps herself out of her memories, giving her shoulders a tight shake. Her head bobs, pain lancing through her temples to beat a staccato rhythm behind her eyes.  _ Breathe, Lucretia. In through the nose and out through the mouth. _

_ You just gotta make it two more weeks. _

“I can’t, I  _ can’t _ , oh gods, please,” Lucretia whispers. Shame curls through her gut; after all she’s done, she can’t face fourteen more days? Fourteen days alone is a small price to pay for what she’s done. Look at Taako or Merle or Lup or Magnus or Barry- all alone, for years. And she can’t even make it fourteen days. 

_ Pathetic.  _

_ This isn’t about you. Say it. _

“This isn’t about me.”

_ There; better, see?  _

“Better.” Lucretia isn’t sure when she became such a bad liar she can’t even fool herself, but there it is. It doesn’t matter, though. Two more weeks and she won’t have to be good at anything. 

_ Two weeks. You can do this. _

Maybe she deserves this torture. No, she _does_ deserve this torture. It’s fitting, Lucretia supposes; she gave up everything to live alone for years because she thought she knew better than everyone she ever loved; now she gets to die slowly, lonely and tired and unable to blame anyone who left her in the dust. It’s poetic, and the writer in Lucretia is practically giddy. 

_ Stop feeling bad for yourself. There’s work to be done. _

She spares a thought to using a spellslot to enchant her pen to write for her, but decides against it. She’s down to two spellslots today and she doesn’t know if the panic will come back again and make her scratch at her arms again. Her anxieties seem to compound in the night. Unfortunately, Lucretia finds that her hands are too shaky these days to write two papers at the same time, so she’s going to have to do this the old fashioned way. 

It takes her a lot more concentration than Lucretia would like to admit to hold even one pen steady and that’s her excuse for not hearing the elf when they appeared.

One thing about the Bureau of Benevolence she still hasn’t quite gotten used to is its lack of anonymity. Anybody can teleport up here if they know the spells now. It’s quite annoying, if she’s being honest. 

One second she’s putting pen to paper; the next, her head is rebounding off the edge of her desk and Lucretia sees stars. Her body falls limp instantly and she slides from her chair to the floor. Boots approach her and the sunlight coming through her curtains catch on a glint of blonde hair.

“Taa- _ aako _ ,” Lucretia slurs, trying to get her arms beneath her on pure instinct. “Lu _ -up _ ?”

It’s hard to relax, to stop yourself from fighting death when that’s all you’ve been doing for a hundred years. But she won’t fight- not if it’s them.

Then her eyes meet with brown and Lucretia almost spits in her indignation. Damn it. For a second there she’d thought she could finally rest.

The unknown elf grins at her, a slice of pearly white in the dim of her office, and hands wrench her upright. “Guess again,” the elf invites, playful. “I’ve got all day.”

“I don’t.” Lucretia replies, and casts Shield. It’s hasty, and only level one, but it blasts them back from her all the same. Her knees knock together from the force it took her to produce it; she hasn’t struggled this much since before the sixty-fifth cycle. 

The left side of her face feels wet. Lucretia has to blink as something crimson clings to her eyelashes. The wet reaches her lips and Lucretia tastes copper.

_ Forget it. You’re fine. _

“I believe I told Bella to take one month’s time,” Lucretia forces out, and she only slurs through like half of it so she’s calling it a win. She's the Director, she can do that. “You took two weeks. Not to be impolite, or anything, but would you like me to get you a calendar? I’m not so hot at conjuration, but it just seems like you need it.”

The elf looks a little confused- it seems to be a pattern with her and her assassins- and Lucretia attempts a wobbly approximation of a smile. “I nicknamed your friend Bella. You know- the orc woman? Lovely hair?”

That startles a laugh out of them. The Bulwark Staff had gone rolling when Lucretia’s temple had connected with the desk and she can just spot the end of it poking out from beneath her curtains. The elf eyes it hungrily and Lucretia shifts, for the first time wary. 

_ Can’t let them get to it; it’s your burden to bear, not theirs. _

“She’s committed but she lacks vision,” the elf says conversationally. Their eyes have locked back on Lucretia and another type of hunger lingers there, like a skinny wolf spotting the first rabbit of spring. “I’ll tell her you said hello. Once I’m finished with you, of course.”

“Please do. You’ll have to come back and visit together sometime,” Lucretia says and then the elf lunges.

Lucretia has exactly one spellslot left and exactly zero will to live. Her Shield is weak, and easy to break. Her thoughts are swimming, slipping through her fingers like water. Her heartbeat is crashing in her ears.

The elf casts Magic Missile and Lucretia would laugh if she were capable of anything greater than a level three spell right now. Such a level one move. Her Shield stops it, but breaks.

“Hey, Madame Director!”

Oh _ shit _ . Taako.

She and the elf are stuck, stock still and listening to the rapping on her door. 

“Now’s not a good time, Taako,” Lucretia calls, keeping her eyes carefully on the assassin. The elf smiles, arches an eyebrow. Their feet shift to the side and Lucretia mirrors them. They begin to slowly circle each other. “Could you maybe make an appointment?”

“Bullshit, Lucretia.” Taako sounds annoyed and- and something else Lucretia doesn't have the brain power to name right now. “You’re not answering Merle’s letters either and now you’ve apparently been stuck in your office for three days? Come on, man, you’re giving Avi a heart attack out here. I mean, not that I really care, ‘cuz, y’know. Cha’boy’s good out here and all that.”

The elf tries out a fireball on her and, scrambling, panicked, Lucretia casts Antimagic Field, something she’d only try on her best days. 

This is decidedly not her best day.

The level eight spell flickers around her, trying to form into something stronger but their fireball blasts right through it like it doesn’t even exist. Lucretia’s mind goes blank as the flames roar towards her face. This is it. This is how she ends.

_ You’re not done yet. Two more weeks. _

Lucretia dives to the side and the flames tear through the space her body occupied moments ago. The ball of flame sears a path of ash across her floor before slamming into her portrait. The frame crumbles beneath the magical onslaught, the pain peels and hisses and the entire thing starts to come crashing down. The elf yelps, trying to stumble back. In their haste, they trip over her Bulwark Staff, which has strangely rolled forward during the fight. They go down.

_ Thanks,  _ Lucretia sends to the staff. The staff hums in the back of her mind.

Unsure of her feet, feeling not unlike a newborn colt, Lucretia tips back, trying to step away. Her feet meet air and she tumbles down her steps just like last week’s fiasco. 

Lucretia spends her time in midair thinking about how long it takes to fall. Then her back hits the ground. So does her head, skull rebounding twice. For what feels like a long time after that she stares up at the ceiling.

_ That might have been your most undignified fight ever. _

There’s movement from across the room- the elf is getting up. They've got their wand in hand. Lucretia really needs to move.

Her head does not like that plan.

It turns out that she doesn’t have to make the next move at all, though, because all at once her door is blown off its hinges, tumbling end over end to land with an almighty racket three feet from Lucretia’s outstretched hand. It gives her enough of a shock to the system that she sits up.

Lucretia’s sight has barely stopped spinning before she makes out Taako’s figure on her threshold. He is backlit by the hallway lights, his face cast in shadow. His shoulders are thrown back and tense. His wand glitters between nimble fingers. His blue eyes glint with unholy light.

“You know what, Taako’s _not_ good out here,” Taako says, too casually. “What the absolute _fuck_ is going on in here?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how I feel about this one- in some ways I really like it and it turned out pretty much to plan but I think I'm just paranoid about Taako's character since I've never written him in depth before.

“No, seriously, what the fuck?”

Lucretia’s office is a wreck. Her imposing self-portrait, the one Taako always feels the urge to throw tomatoes at or draw a moustache and devil horns on, is torn clean in half lengthwise, leaving only one intelligent eye staring out at him. The rest of the frame and canvas are torn down, one piece of the frame still in the process of toppling to the floor below as Taako steps into the room. Her desk is overturned and smashed to bits, papers scattered everywhere and still floating through the air like disturbed, slow-moving birds. He catches the glint of blood on one corner of the desk, sees the overturned chair, the Bulwark Staff lying carelessly thrown across the room. 

He sees Lucretia sitting up and clutching her head, floored and gasping. He sees an unknown figure tearing its way free of the destruction behind the wreckage that used to be Lucretia’s desk. It’s an elf. They are on their feet while the Director lies on the floor and bleeds.

It’s suddenly very hard to breathe. 

The elf on the other side of the room raises their wand threateningly. Taako sends out a Heat Metal spell at them without taking his eyes off of Lucretia.

Lucretia, who is on the floor, looking up at Taako like she doesn’t recognize him. Lucretia, whose face is much worse than bruised, who is sitting with her arm bent awkwardly around her ribs, who is covered in her own blood and who is prone as a stranger looms over her with a wand pointed at the back of her head. 

His Heat Metal works like a charm (ha!) and their wand glows red hot between their fingers. The elf yelps and drops it on instinct. They scramble backwards, looking lost without their source of power. Taako can track their eyes as they search the floor, looking for the Bulwark Staff. 

Lucretia looks around at the commotion they cause and lets out a strangled yelp. She struggles to get to her feet, hand outstretched towards her relic. The Staff, which should be within arm’s reach for the stranger, rolls gently towards her, sliding just out of their range. The elf lets out a frustrated growl and lunges for it; at the same time, Lucretia lets out a groan of exertion and tries to scramble for the Staff as well.

But Lucretia only gets one knee under her before she’s wobbling, almost toppling back over. In a second, Taako is beside her, a hand hooked under her elbow. She steadies, but sways into his side. It’s strange, letting her lean on him after so long- after everything- but it’s familiar too. It reminds him of the days after they came back from the sixty-fifth cycle, when Lup hadn’t wanted her to sleep alone and Taako’s chest had felt small and tight when he’d seen the way Lucretia’s face was pinched, starved even though they were all healthy with the start of a new cycle and he and Lup used to drag Lucy to bed, curl up around her and beg her to finally  _ rest _ -

Those days are long gone now. But Lucretia’s face is filled with blood and her eyes are empty and her fingers are trembling where they grip the side of his tunic. 

Taako uses another spellslot to pull the Bulwark Staff to them. It wriggles out of the elf’s reach and soars towards them but Taako at least has the presence of mind to not catch it. Like hell is he risking thrall, and certainly not for Lucretia’s ass. He lets it drop down beside her and Lucretia snaps it up into the crook of her bad arm, barely wincing. She must have landed wrong in the fall he’d heard.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, compadre, but you better start fucking talking.”

“Taako-” Lucretia sounds chiding for a second but cuts herself off. When he glances down, she’s gone pale under the blood sheeting down the left side of her face. In a split second, she leans to the side and mercifully misses his boots when she throws up.

“Gross!” Taako comments brightly. Then he watches the elf for a long moment, while Lucretia gasps and heaves and clutches at Taako like a lifeline. Without even noticing it, his free hand has migrated and begun carding through her hair. The curls are matted with sweat and blood. “So, whoever-the-fuck you are, I’m guessing you did this to her, huh? Who the hell do you think you are?”

The elf’s grin is smug for a person whose hands are still shining with the burns Taako gave them. “I am her reckoning, her absolution and her consequence. I am here to hold her to account.”

Lucretia makes a weird sound at that, half laugh and half sob and Taako could go on and on about holding Lucretia to account but-

But this  _ punk _ thinks they can do this to- to Taako’s- to the fucking Director of the Bureau of Benevolence? To Lucretia, a woman this elf should only know as the woman who saved the world? To the woman who survived a year alone while an entire plane tried to rip her to fucking bits because none of the rest of them could be bothered to stay alive to help her? 

Taako’s ears twitch angrily, perking before lying flat against his skull. Lucretia’s grip is loosening- losing strength- and he doesn’t look down as he moves one hand to the back of her head, where he’d seen it bounce against her stone floor.

No split in her scalp. Good. He curls his fingers around the back of her neck and hopes that’s enough to keep her upright for now.

“You know that’s not really an answer, right? Like that doesn’t tell me anything about who you are, that’s just a bunch of fancy words you probably pulled outta your ass.” Taako shrugs, smiles. It feels more like baring his teeth. He wishes, not for the first time, that his looked as sharp as Lup’s do.“I mean, cha’boy’s fine not knowing who the fuck you think you are before I kill you, but Luc here? She’s a class act, all polite and shit. The real fuckin’ deal, huh, Lucy?”

“Taako,” Lucretia says. Her voice is scratchy and low. It hurts his throat just to listen to her. “Don’t kill them.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Taako deadpans, and tightens his grip on his wand and her nape. Lucretia doesn’t even wince, just leans her forehead against the outside of his thigh. 

“Don’t. They’re- they're- not wrong.”

What. The.  _ Fuck _ .

The heat that’s been flaring in his gut is suddenly doused with uncertainty. What- what the hell is she thinking? _ Not wrong? _ That- that’s-

That’s beside the point. This asshole broke into one of the most secure places in the world and threw a fireball at someone Taako once called a- at Lucretia. 

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack  _ all _ of that.” Taako drums his fingers on the handle of his wand, a gift from Lup after the Day of Story and Song. “But right now, I’m gonna focus on the part where you have a fucking head injury, Lucretia, and also you’re not my boss anymore and also you’re obviously terrible at making decisions, our relationship is exhibit A, thanks very much and I’m gonna use all that as justification to tell you to shut the fuck up.”

“My responsibility-” Lucretia slurs, and begins struggling to push herself upright. To her credit, she doesn’t try to use Taako as a climbing post.

Still a stupid fucking thing to do.

Taako squeezes the back of her neck lightly. Lucretia opens her mouth, tilts her head up towards him, he can see out of the corner of his eyes-

And then the shift in her weight seems to get the better of her and she starts to slowly slip out of his grip as her body goes limp. Taako tries to hold onto her collar but a quick glance down shows him Lucretia is out cold. He lets go, far more gently than he'd ever admit to. The Bulwark Staff is clutched limply in her hands as she settles in an ungraceful heap at his feet. She looks like a broken doll, porcelain all cracked and paint running.

Taako looks back up at the elf and grins wider. He can feel his ears flicking about, his grin stretching too wide in his face, and he hopes the elf is as unsettled as they look. 

“Here’s the plan, Stan,” Taako says very quietly. “You can tell me who you are and what you’re doing here and I will kill you in the gentlest way possible.”

He lets the silence stretch until they shift on their feet. They look like they’re going for bravado but their voice comes out a little weak as they prompt him. “Or?”

“Or,” Taako explains patiently, still smiling, “I can rip you to shreds and laugh while I do it. So what’ll it be, amigo?”

For a second the elf looks cowed. They go to wring their hands together but wince, staring down at their palms. Taako can see from across the office that his spell has stripped at least two layers of skin from the flesh; something deep and angry purrs in his chest. But then they give themselves a shake, throw back their shoulders, and meet his gaze. Taako does not at all suppress the urge to roll his eyes. 

“The Ragged Harmony is numerous and numberless,” the elf tells him. “We are named and nameless, we are many and none and we will have our vengeance. You cannot keep us from our goal, for ours is a divine justice. We will take Lucretia of Faerun’s soul as retribution for the dead and we will never rest until-”

“Ugh, shut the fuck up, will ya?” Taako says, and casts Disintegrate. 

The elf dies screaming. Surprisingly, it doesn’t make Taako feel all that much better. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINNGGGGG

Lucretia has always been slender. She’s the bookish type, more prone to be found in the library than on the training ground. Taako can remember many a time when Magnus has tried to get Lucretia to let him give her self-defense lessons, all in vain. She’s got sharp elbows for throwing and a sharper wit for avoiding trouble (not that she ever  _ did _ ) and that had always seemed to be enough for her. She stayed skinny and stayed smart and she ended up helping save the world so no one complained much about it.

When Taako picks her unconscious body off the stone floor, though, he realizes Lucretia has gone from willowy and bookish to downright skin and bones. He’s not even that strong and she feels feather light in his arms.

Her blood is getting all over his fantasy Armani tunic. Merle’s voice is playing in the back of Taako’s mind, reminding him not to jostle Lucretia too much, to protect her head. Should he have stopped the bleeding before picking her up? How long has she been unconscious? She’s definitely got a concussion, she’s losing a lot of blood, her arm is bending in places it shouldn’t bend-

“Shut up,” Taako hisses. "Shut up, she’s fine. Shut up.”

He still runs out the door with her. 

Lucretia’s temple bounces gently against his shoulder every time Taako’s feet hit the ground but he can’t slow down to check on her, not when he can feel her blood seeping into his sleeve. A drop rolls languidly down his forearm, drips off his wrist. Her eyes stay closed. There are people in the hallways but they all stumble back as he passes; Taako can hear gasps and some exclamations but whatever expression is on his face is enough to deter anyone from stopping him. Gods but he wishes Merle were here. 

He veritably flies down the hallways. For how long he’s been avoiding the Bureau of Benevolence, Taako’s memory of the place is perfect; they make it to the clerics in record time.

He bursts through the doors knowing that he must make quite a sight; Taako, wizard, one of the seven birds, headmaster of the fastest-growing transmutation school in the plane, gasping and sweating, clutching an unconscious Madame Director, savior of the world and the creator of the Bureau, to his chest as she bleeds like a stuck pig. 

“Heal her,” he grinds out. “ _ Now. _ ”

The skeleton staff inside- two human men and a halfling woman- spring into action without question. A rolling bed is set up with a flick of a wand, the halfling is already sorting through spells under her breath, and one of the men has gathered up regular bandages and supplies for stitches just in case.

The other human cleric tries to take Lucretia from him and for some reason Taako finds himself hard pressed to keep from hissing at him. His fingers refuses to unbend from where they are buried in her robes. The halfling has to pry them free, still focused on her spells all the while.

In moments, he is left in the small waiting room, staring after the group as they roll Lucretia away. Her blood has not dried on his hands. Funny; when he’d imagined what killing her that day would have been like he never thought about the tackiness of her blood getting stuck between his fingers. 

Taako’s stomach rolls and he closes his eyes against the crimson. He is still very aware of it on his skin.

~

They let him see her after three hours. She's propped up against a mountain of pillows, arm in a sling and eyes shut. He takes the single wooden chair at her bedside and looks around for something-anything- to do. The halfling brings him a basin to wash his hands in and Taako stares at the water, rippling gently with every vibration of the footsteps outside of the Director’s private room.

“Of course you get a private room,” he sneers at her unconscious form, wrapped tightly under stark white sheets. His words lack any heat. 

Lucretia does not respond. Taako’s getting real sick of staring at her closed eyes.

“Naw, I know,” Taako finally relents after a minute. “You’da hated this room- sequestered from all the action, huh?”

Avi and Killian and Carey will be here soon. The only reason he isn’t getting harassed for answers right now is the fact that the fiasco near the remains of Raven’s Roost has all three down there trying to contain it. He wonders idly how long word about the attack on the Director will take to spread all over the moon. Taako hadn’t been able to tell the clerics much when they had interrogated him once it was clear that besides her arm and head Lucretia was not in any life-threatening danger. It seemed the only answers they’d get would be straight from the horse’s mouth.

“I think maybe I’ve had enough action." Says a hoarse voice beside Taako. He jerks in his seat, having slumped forward with his hands clasped between his knees, and stares.

Lucretia’s face is more wrinkled and haggard than he’s ever seen it, with a few stitches standing out near her hairline. He’s still getting used to reconciling his internal image of her as a skinny eighteen year old with this tall, regal woman she’s turned into. The fact that she’s bandaged from head to toe and lying in the healing wing, skin and eyes dark against the intrusive white of the walls and bedding, does not help. She looks- diminished, somehow. Hurt, yeah, obviously, but it’s beyond that. Tired, maybe, but like, Extra Tired. Tired Squared. Extreme Tiredness (tm). 

Whatever.

“So what the hell, Madame Director,” Taako asks. He tries for conversational and ends up somewhere around accusatory. Oh well.

“I beg your pardon?”

She goes for the water glass at her bedside and Taako reaches out to steady it for her without thinking. Her hands are shaking quite badly. Is that normal for older humans? 

“I mean why the hell was some nobody from some weird organization I’ve never heard of in your office trying to kill you and spouting off some quasi-religious bullshit while you lay on the floor and  _ bled? _ ”

_ Why weren’t you doing anything to stop it? _

Lucretia settles back on her pillows and closes her eyes. Her sigh is ragged and long. “I didn’t know they all had an organization.”

“Yeah, the elf called it the ‘Ragged Harmony, like that makes any sense,” Taako says before the implications of what she just said catch up with his mouth. “Wait a fucking second.”

Lucretia opens her eyes and arches one exhausted eyebrow. Taako gets the immature urge to tell her her face will get stuck that way.

“You didn’t know they were organized, meaning you did know they  _ existed? _ ”

Lucretia’s eyes shift to the left, just a little, so she’s not meeting his and suddenly a fire is burning in Taako’s chest.  _ What the fuck. _

“I- that is to say, I expected something like this to happen, of course. It’s not new.”

“ _ Not new? _ ” Taako explodes. He leans forward, unwilling to let her gaze slide further from his without a fight. Lucretia has always been able to lie with her body, her words- but never with her eyes. She pointedly looks down at her hands fisted in the sheets. “This has happened before? What the fuck, Lucretia, why doesn’t anybody know about this? Why wouldn’t you  _ say  _ anything?”

Her laugh is hollow and grates on his nerves. “And say what, exactly? ‘Oh, sorry for the interruption, I know you’re very busy but some people are trying to kill me.’”

“Uh, yeah! That’d be a pretty good start.”

Her expression is exasperated. It makes something in Taako’s chest knot up and he can feel his face closing off, his eyes narrowing, his shoulders hunching against her disdain. “People are trying to kill me every day, Taako. I can handle myself. You just- came in at a bad time.”

Oh come on. She is seriously not starting this shit with him.

Taako leans away, clenches his jaw, grips one fist in the other so hard he can feel his bones creak. “You’re- you needed help and wouldn’t let go of your fucking pride enough to ask for it? Seriously? Fuck, Lucretia, I knew you were a dick but I didn’t know you’d let yourself get killed over it.”

“I can fight my own battles, Taako.” Lucretia snaps, eyes finally meeting his. Fire burns there and Taako’s own flames leap to meet it. 

He scoffs. “Yeah, that’s  _ clearly _ not true.”

“I don’t need your help.” 

Lucretia raises her chin and that- that just does it. Taako has never been able to stand her haughtiness, her holier-than-thou attitude that only got worse when she helped save the world. This- this- he doesn’t need this. He saves her fucking life and this is how she acts?

“Fuck this,” Taako surmises. His chair makes a terrible screech as he pushes to his feet. He hopes his glare burns her as much as his spells burned the elf currently residing as a pile of ash on her office carpet. “See if I ever save your ungrateful ass again.”

He storms out and leaves someone he once thought of as family lying in a sickbed, alone and in pain. He only feels a little guilty about it; the rest of his guilt is burned in the anger raging through him. Fuck her. He actually does something nice after everything Lucretia put him and the others through and she spits in his face. Of fucking course. 

The trip back home passes in a blur of anger and righteousness. Taako gets back in the early evening but he can’t be bothered to make dinner or call Kravitz or distract himself further than opening all the cabinets and banging them shut again. He throws a lamp at the wall. He contemplates breaking a mirror.

“Seven years of bad luck my ass,” he mutters to his reflection as he changed into pajamas, shoving his arms roughly into a worn tee-shirt. “I’ve had bad luck since I saw her stupid face.”

He goes to bed even though it’s not even nine yet, because at least if he’s asleep he won’t be fuming about her  _ again.  _ And he can ignore the fact that the sting in his chest isn’t all from anger. Taako rolls onto his side, hauls the sheets up to his chin even though he’s sweating and overheated, and clenches his eyes shut. 

Then he rolls onto his other side. Then onto his back. 

_ She’s hiding something. She was lying- that’s why she wouldn’t meet your eyes. She didn’t want you asking questions. _

_ She thought the elf was right to try to kill her. _

Taako’s eyes snap back open and he’s glaring into the dark. “That bitch. She wanted me gone and she godsdamn got me out.”

Well. They’d just see about that, wouldn’t they?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and panic attacks. Please tread carefully.

Taako would hate to admit it, but Lucretia knows him very well. You can’t go through a century of deaths together without getting to know each other at least a little. And Lucretia is an observer; her whole shtick is to watch others’ behaviors and record them. Taako, being only second to Lup in terms of brash loudness and flamboyancy in their Starblaster days, caught Lucretia’s attention almost immediately. 

After her greatest mistake, Lucretia had a lot of time to reminisce. Nostalgia is an old friend. 

She couldn’t tell you how many times she’s sat and thought about Taako’s dinners, the way he shimmied his shoulders to the beat when they had music playing, how his eyebrow twitched when he was confused, that wrinkle he’d get across the bridge of his nose when he was angry. She’s thought of all of them this way, all the little signs she didn’t even know she knew that told her about how they were feeling.

Last night Taako got that wrinkle across the bridge of his nose sitting at her bedside and for the first time in maybe ever, Lucretia had been looking to put it there. 

It was- it was too _much_. It was too much more than she deserves, to wake from her sleep to have someone- to have Taako,  _ Taako, _ who she lost so long ago, who she flung away from herself knowingly and willingly- waiting for her. He’d had that pinched look at the corners of his eyes he got when Lup was hurt on the Starblaster, when Merle and Davenport weren’t back from their expeditions on time, when Magnus charged into a fight without thinking, when Barry hadn’t left his lab for days on end. Lucretia doesn’t get to put that look on Taako’s face anymore. She _ can’t _ . Really and truly; she’d thought herself- and Taako- incapable of it.

And yet, he was there. He waited for her to wake. He asked why she hadn’t gone for help and seemed appalled when Lucretia explained the fact that she didn’t deserve to call on them for assistance. 

She couldn’t stand to look at Taako and see the past, when she’d get hurt on one mission or another and he’d show up with a pithy one liner and a load of comfort food. It’s selfish and wrong but Lucretia just can’t keep forcing herself to look back on all that she ruined. It’s the punishment she deserves but after all those years alone, with only a deteriorating Davenport for company, all these times she hated herself and wanted to end it but knew she had penance to complete, Lucretia is _tired_. She felt it keenly when Taako asked her what was going on, the exhaustion settling deep in her bones. 

_ Two weeks, _ she’d thought, and then,  _ he has to be angry _ .

A concerned Taako was not status quo; it was unnatural and unbalanced in a world where Lucretia had undertaken the title of Madame Director to bring about balance. And so she had to push him back from where he was falling off-kilter, to restore him- and herself- to the natural order. 

She had to piss him off. Thankfully, that is one thing Lucretia has always excelled at. 

In the end, it was easy. Lucretia simply had to call Taako’s attention to the things about her he had always hated; her arrogance, her deep, abiding need to be self-sufficient, and the kicker, her pride. It was her pride, after all, which helped force her hand with the voidfish, or so he believed.

Lucretia wonders if he’ll ever realize it was her fear driving her hand in that moment. Maybe, maybe not. It will hardly matter after the next two weeks. 

_ What will you do if no one comes for you? _

Lucretia twists her head to and fro, trying to shake these thoughts free; they’ve been worming their way inside ever since Taako saved her from the elf. They would come. Maybe not the Starblaster crew, against all odds. But someone would come to make her pay- the elf had made that abundantly clear.

_ Security will be raised after this; there’s no hiding it from the clerics now, not when Taako’s almost certainly told them about the fight in your office. The Ragged Harmony won’t get the chance to get to you. _

“No, no,” Lucretia murmurs into the darkness of the healing wing. There is no one around to hear her as her chest shakes. “No, there has to be a way.”

_ You know what it will come down to, don’t you? What it has always been coming to. _

“I know.” Unconsciously, her good hand goes to her other arm, the left one. She has to go above the sling, higher than she usually does, but the familiar feeling of her nails digging into her bicep is soothing. She drags downward, ignores the skin getting caught under her fingernails. It’s too dark to see, but she knows without looking that there are angry red welts rising there. “I know.”

_ You love responsibility so much. So take it. _

Lucretia scratches harder, faster. Her nails catch on jagged skin, ripping it open. She doesn’t stop when her shoulder becomes wet. “I- I’m scared,” she admits softly. Her teeth are chattering.

_ Tough shit. Get it done, Lucy. _

“Yeah, yeah. Get it done.”

Two weeks, Lucretia reflects, were fast becoming an eternity. 

She doesn’t sleep the rest of the night, just sits and scratches and tries not to think. In the morning, just before the break of dawn, the clerics on morning shift come in. A buff orc woman checks her bandages.

At her arched eyebrow, Lucretia smiles weakly and gestures at her shoulder. “I’m a very restless sleeper. Apologies.”

She doesn’t really know what she’s sorry for. Taking up more medical supplies, maybe. The terrible excuse, probably. Using up a healer's valuable time, most definitely. 

She’s so very tired. It feels as if Lucretia is a wind-up toy who is slowly ticking down to stopping. There’s no one left to help turn the key in her back to keep her going. Even if someone offered, Lucretia wouldn’t accept.

“It will be nice to rest,” she whispers to herself on the way out of the healing wing. It’s an admission that burns on the way up. She shouldn’t get to rest after what she’s done. But she is so, so tired. And the days are so long. The nights are even longer.

It’s less than fourteen days now, but the finish line feels far away.

It feels even farther as Lucretia slides into her office after haggling with the clerics to get them to dismiss her case from the files (they refused and now Lucretia will definitely be looking forward to sharp words from both Killian and Carey when they get back from Raven’s Roost). The room is still as disaster. There is at least three months worth of paperwork scattered about, and she has nowhere to sit with her desk in shambles. 

There’s dried blood splattered across the rug Carey got for her birthday. She’ll have to clean it. It’s actually funny; if she tilts her head just right, the morning light makes the blood just the color of their IPRE robes.

Suddenly, Lucretia’s chest is too tight. Her lungs won’t expand. It feels like her breath is caught just at the back of her throat, unable to push past and exit her body. Her heart is pounding and her eyes are locked on the blood she spilled less than twenty-four hours ago and when did she end up on her knees?

The world is going dark at the edges and her head is in her hands and Lucretia may just die here, what if she just asphyxiates for no reason, haha, wouldn’t that be so funny, after everything her body just shuts down, well, she tells herself, not like you don’t deserve it, it’s a better end than you  _ do  _ deserve, you selfish, wretched creature, get up, get off your ass, there’s work to be done you worthless-

A hand lands on Lucretia’s shoulder. A sheaf of golden hair enters her vision as someone leans over her. Brown eyes meet blue and Lucretia gasps in a lungful of sweet, sweet air.

“Jesus, Luc,” Taako says, and there’s that unidentifiable something in his tone again, the same one she heard outside her door when she’d been fighting for her life, “what happened to you?”

There is no wrinkle across the bridge of his nose. 


	8. Chapter 8

“Come on, come on, up you get.” Taako keeps his voice soft; it doesn’t come naturally. But as he ushers her up from where she was curled up on her ruined office rug, Lucretia’s expression is much too fragile for anything else. Her breathing is still erratic and her eyes are bloodshot. Her sling is sliding off her slumped shoulder and Taako reaches out and fixes it as gently as he can, avoiding the bandages he is sure weren't there when he stormed off. She still flinches. 

A soft something, familiar and unexpected, clenches tight in his gut. A flare of hot anger surges through him as Taako looks around; her underlings couldn’t be bothered to clean the place up before she got here? For gods’ sake, her own blood stains the floor still; her painting is still in shambles and her desk is still crumpled before it, evidence of what happened to her just last night. If he cranes his neck Taako can just catch sight of the ashes he turned the elf into on the other side of the room. That same anger chokes him- some cleaning staff Lucretia has.

Then again, given her recent track record, it’s entirely possible Lucretia simply refused to tell anyone what a mess her office is. 

He has to bite back the questions, the accusations and the- the worry, what the fuck, seriously. Leave it to Lucretia to make him worry about her after being such a colossal asshole for twelve years. 

But Lucretia hadn’t responded to him shouting her name for at least five minutes before he got up the nerve to touch her and she looks like death warmed over (apologies to the Raven Queen). She definitely shouldn’t be out of the healing wing yet and if the clerics let her bully her way out Taako’s gonna have to kick some ass. 

She’s also still very much caught in the throes of a panic attack. Taako is familiar.

“Let’s go, bubeleh,” he tells her absently, slipping a helping hand under her elbow, mind on the fastest route to her rooms. Where  _ are _ her rooms even? Doesn’t matter- what matters is getting her_ out_ of this one. Nothing quite fucks you up like the sight of the place you just almost died.

Lucretia is quiet except for her rapid breathing and she lets him hook an arm around her back for support without complaint. Taako’s not even sure she realizes they’re moving until they’re in the hallway and hobbling vaguely towards where Taako thinks the living quarters are. 

“Taako-” Lucretia pushes out of his hold just a little, looking around wildly like she’s coming up from underwater into bright sunlight. She blinks quickly, whips her head around and scrubs a hand across her mouth. There’s dried blood under her fingernails. 

That hadn’t been there last night. Taako would know; he’d spent the better part of an hour glaring at her hand and arguing with himself over the merits of holding it while she slept. 

Taako opens his mouth, a hundred questions pushing up his throat, and takes one look at her face before snapping his jaws shut again. Her pupils are dilated and it seems like she can’t focus on one thing for very long. Her gaze skips over him, lands on the lamps in the hallway, goes to the doors and the exit, then back to him. Her lips are pulled tight against her teeth, like she's holding in a cry.

“Do you know where you are?” Taako keeps his voice clear. Lucretia’s eyes dart around for another minute before settling on something just behind his left shoulder. She nods.

“The- Bureau,” Lucretia says, and Taako doesn’t comment on the fact she has to gasp for air. “Out- outside the living quarters.”

“Good, that’s great,” Taako tells her seriously. “Now for the kicker: do you remember getting here?”

“I- I-” Lucretia ducks her head. She doesn’t even try to lie now. It’s all in her body, how she slumps and curls in on herself; a sort of shattering, like looking at a broken mirror. 

So Taako does the lying for both of them. “That’s okay.”

She’s lost at least fifteen minutes of time. This is very not okay. Gods, when had this happened? When had Lucretia become so broken? 

How did this happen right beneath their noses?

_You shouldn't have to take care of her after what she did,_ says a putrid little voice in his head, but Taako just flips it off and focuses on the task at hand.

“We’re going back to your bedroom,” Taako says, “and you’re gonna take a nap, okay? ‘Cuz, not to put too fine a point on it, Lucretia, but you’re a hot mess right now. Like, not even the good kind of hot either.”

“I can’t!”

There’s something about how she says it that makes Taako pause. Usually he’d puff up at her protests and try to bully her into agreeing with him. But not only is that a terrible idea for a woman he just found in the middle of an unspecified panic attack, but- but there’s something weird about how she’s looking at him right now. Like Taako is supposed to understand why she can’t go take a fucking nap after almost  _ dying _ .

“Dude, you just had someone try to fucking assassinate you last night. I think you earned a freakin’ nap.”

“I can’t,” Lucretia insists again, shaking her head. She’s shaking all over like a leaf in the wind. Taako curls his hands into fists and isn’t sure if it’s from anger or to stave off the urge to reach out and steady her.

_ Lucretia’s always responded better to logical arguments,  _ Taako thinks. _ Fucking hell. _

“Why not?”

“I have- work.” Even she seems to realize how lame that sounds, because Lucretia winces and dips her head down at his arched brow. “There’s a lot to do, and I can’t afford to stop just because of a little setback-”

“No, nope, I draw the line at calling attempted murder a ‘little setback,’” he snaps, but his touch is soft when he takes her arm. Taako has to duck his head to find her eyes. She doesn’t let the contact last long, breaking their staring after only a second. Still, she doesn’t pull away. “Do you really think you’re in any condition to be getting work done, Lucretia?”

She feels very, very weak in his hands. Taako remembers how red his palms were with her blood and has to swallow against sudden nausea. He forges ahead. “Look, take a nap and some painkillers and then maybe a shower- ‘cuz, dude, you reek, are those robes from like three days ago?- and then you’ll be like, twice as productive than you would be right now.”

Lucretia hesitates. Taako goes for the kill. “Besides, if you don’t do what I tell you after I flew all the way up here, I’m gonna have to take matters into my own hands.” Her eyes jump to Taako, so Taako lets his smile widen. “You seriously ready for the greatest wizard of this generation to be running wild in your bureau, Madame Director?”

Lucretia’s face flickers and something that reminds Taako of warm laughter and nights on the Starblaster settles there for a second. “Seeing as I’m the greatest wizard here,” Lucretia says, too softly, but hey, she says it anyway, Taako will take what he can get, “I think I can handle one transmutation punk.”

Taako cackles. “I’d like to see you try, old woman. I’d kick your ass.”

But he must say the wrong thing, because Lucretia’s expression shutters again. Shit. Oh well, back to business. Taako gives her arm a light tug. “Come on, I haven’t got all day, lady. Let’s go.”

She still hasn’t stopped trembling, but she also hasn’t taken her arm back, and Taako is able to silently coax her to lean on him on their way to her rooms. He doesn’t know if she does it willingly or out of necessity; but at least they avoid a fall, so he’ll call it a win.

Lucretia’s rooms are dim in the morning light. Taako’s a bit taken aback at how messy the place is; her laundered robes are stacked up on top of her bureau like Lucretia can't be bothered to put them away, there are papers and personal effects- few and far between as they are- scattered across her desk, her lampshades are dusty and so are the curtains, and her bed looks like it hasn’t been turned down in months. 

“Did a bomb go off in here,” Taako mutters and doesn’t allow himself to feel bad for the way Lucretia’s shoulders hunch. She stalks a few feet from him, steps wobbling, and halfheartedly straightens some of her papers. “Aw, leave it. Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”

He’s joking, mostly, because there's still hot embers of anger and self-righteousness that flare at the sight of her, but Lucretia looks at him sharply and really meets his eyes for the first time, probably by accident.

Taako can feel his lungs turn to lead because Lucretia looks- she looks-

_Bad._ Her eyes are overbright, like maybe she’ll cry soon and he can count on one hand the times she’s cried in front of _ any _ of them. Beyond that, she is so very tired; he can see it in the defeat etched in the lines of her face, the sagging bags under her eyes- usually so alert- and the way her back seems to bow forward under some invisible weight. She looks like she could drop to her knees at any moment.

_ She looks like she could drop dead. _

“Bed,” Taako croaks. “Come on, bed, let’s go.” 

It’s the only thing he can think to do when Taako pulls the covers over Lucretia. She doesn’t wiggle further in, doesn’t get comfortable, just lies stiff as a board and stares at the ceiling like she’s waiting for him to leave. Like she can’t bring herself to look at him. Taako tucks her in anyway.

He flicks the curtains closed with a spellslot and turns to leave after a tense second where Lucretia doesn’t look at him and he stands with his mouth hanging open trying to think of something witty to say like an absolute idiot.

Taako's still pissed about last night, don't get him wrong; it sucked to realize she could still so easily manipulate him. But Lucretia is small under her blankets and her exhaustion seems to be contagious. He can always be angry tomorrow.

“Thanks,” floats weakly to his ears. Taako pauses on the threshold and looks back. There’s just a lump under the covers now; Lucretia has turned away from him.

“Sleep tight.” Taako has to clear his throat; it’s suddenly a little hard to speak. “I’ll be around, okay?”

Lucretia doesn’t answer. Taako closes the door softly. He contemplates leaning there for a while, just to make sure she does sleep, but ultimately decides against it.

After all, there are some clerics around here who need an ass-kicking. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I can't wait to write these two mending their relationship!  
Also me: but first, pain. Lots and lots of pain.  
On a serious note, this chapter contains a pretty graphic description of a depressive episode.

** _The world splits apart and the air is charged with electricity. There is screaming and crying and begging and all of it is drowned out by terrible laughter. The smile is so wide and the air is white with ash and no one will be able to save them-_ **

Lucretia opens her eyes. 

Her curtains are purple.

She closes her eyes again.

** _A grin too wide for the world. A craving that consumes._ **

Her eyelids are so heavy. Her limbs are lead. She can barely move. Lucretia listens to the airflow from the vent in the far right corner of her room and wishes she could freeze forever. It would be nice to simply  _ stop.  _ Encased in ice, she’d never feel a thing again.

_ How many days left? _

She doesn’t know. She’s not sure. Maybe thirteen?

_ You should get up. You should find out how long you’ve been asleep. _

Lucretia tries to move. She fails. The backs of her eyelids are so dark and so kind.

** _Laughter that sounds like screaming._ **

Lucretia forces her eyes open. She’s laying on her side, her back to the door. The sun is slanting in through the window at a low angle; it must be some time in the late afternoon. She didn’t realize she needed to sleep this badly.

These days it feels like she can’t ever sleep. What changed today?

“Taako,” Lucretia croaks on instinct. But she’s alone; no one answers her.

Her throat is too dry; it feels like the surface of a sand dune, cracked and rough. There’s a glass of water that wasn’t there before on her bedside table. Someone must have left it there for her. But her arms are still weighed down, Lucretia can’t seem to stop herself from being magnetized to the mattress, and so she doesn’t bother reaching for it. The discomfort will go away eventually. Probably.

_ You have to work today. _

“I know, I know.”

But even speaking costs so much energy. She blinks. The curtains are dirty. Her room is dirty. She should clean it. She should move. She should do something.

_ So why don’t you? _

She shrugs one shoulder, the most movement she can manage. Lucretia doesn’t know. She just can’t. 

The pillow is sticky with her sweat. Or maybe it’s tears; sometimes she cries in her sleep nowadays. It’s weird. Her cheek is glued to the pillowcase. These blankets are stiflingly hot. She’s quite uncomfortable.

But it’s so much easier to lay here and contemplate her curtains.

Time passes slow as molasses. Maybe she sleeps again. She’s not sure. Lucretia isn’t sure of much right now.  _ That’s bad, _ she thinks. 

The door clicks softly as it opens. No one comes in here but Lucretia. She’s a very private person, you know. But there are soft footsteps muted by her carpet, so someone is in here with her. Huh. That’s strange. That doesn’t happen.

It’s almost enough to get her to move. Almost. Lucretia’s very tired.

“Hey,” says a voice that is trying very hard not to be loud. It’s okay, she wants to say, you can shout if you want. I know you want to. I know you have a lot to say to me. It’s okay.

_ Maybe this is it. _

It makes the voice in the back of her head- the one that tells Lucretia how to get up in the morning and how to go on living despite the fact Lucretia's chest has been hollowed out like a jack-o-lantern- happy, so that thought must be good. This is it. This is the end. Isn’t it? It must be. Her shoulders relax.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Says Taako. He sounds off somehow and that more than anything makes Lucretia turn her head. She can only manage about a quarter of the way, but it’s something. It’s more than she thought she was capable of. 

He’s leaning over her now, hip braced against the edge of her mattress. She can just see him out of the corner of her eye. His hand raises, hesitates-

_ This is it, this is the end! _

But no spell comes. His fingers light on her throat, but don’t curl around it and squeeze. Lucretia is- confused, maybe. It’s hard to tell with all this fog in her brain.

“Hm.” He pulls away. “Your pulse is slow. Like, worryingly slow, my dude. You okay? Not bleeding out on me, are you? Open up your stitches?”

Her arm is healed up now from whatever salve the orc put on it this morning. Her stitches will come out this evening, probably, or melt right into her skin when it finishes knitting together. Her clerics are the best of the best, after all.

Lucretia manages to shake her head. Taako hums. It’s nice. He has a nice voice. She forgot about that. She’s glad he’s here. That’s probably selfish of her.

“I made you some soup.”

_ What? _

What?

Lucretia really wishes she could see his face right now but Taako doesn’t move around to look at her and she’s still composed of solid stone, unable to turn and look. Lucretia isn’t sure if that makes this easier or harder. 

“Do you think you could eat?”

Sitting up? Going to the kitchen? Lifting the spoon to her lips, swallowing, spooning up more soup, lifting the utensil to her mouth again? Gods, even imagining the process makes her tired.

She turns her head back to the curtains. She’s not sure why she’s so exhausted all of a sudden. She’s been doing fine recently, all things considered. She has a lot of work to do; there’s no time for silly things like tiredness. So why can’t she move right now?

The voice in her head is screaming at her that she needs to get up and get to work but it’s small and tinny and far away. The fog is obscuring it. It’s sort of a relief, if Lucretia is honest with herself.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” His voice is wry, a little sour. She doesn’t want to hurt him again. It’s enough that he hates her already. It’s enough.

Someone is making this pathetic little whining noise in the back of their throat. Lucretia wishes they would stop. Taako’s hand lands on her again and wow, no one has touched her in- in-

She’s not sure. It’s hard to think. Taako rubs soothing circles into her back. Why is he doing that?

“It’s okay,” Taako says, and it is. Isn’t it? “That’s okay, you don’t have to get up yet. You just- you just rest now, okay?”

His voice just broke. It’s not okay.

_ What’s not okay?  _

_ Me, I think, _ Lucretia replies, and only just realizes the truth of it when she does. Huh.

Taako slips out as quietly as he entered. He leaves the door open just a crack; she can tell because the latch doesn’t click shut.

Lucretia stares straight ahead.

Her curtains are purple. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack. Life got crazy; I moved, started university and a lot of shit involving both of those life events got in the way of updating. Thanks for sticking around.

“What am I supposed to do with all the godsdamn soup?”

_ Lucretia isn’t moving. She isn’t talking or eating and when you walked in the room you didn’t think she was breathing. _

“Shouldn’t have made all this fuckin’ soup,” Takko mutters, angrily scrubbing the stove clean. Lucretia’s kitchenette looks brand new; it’s probably never been used. She never was much of a cook. For how good she is with her hands you’d’ve thought she would’ve been.

“Woman’s clumsier than a bull in a china shop in the kitchen,” Taako says. Anything to fill up this strange, oppressive silence that’s taken hold of Lucretia’s apartment. There’s no sound of movement from her bedroom. He’s been filling the quiet by banging open her cupboard, slamming the fridge shut, clattering around with the dirty dishes. The rush of water in the sink was almost overpowering in the stillness, but he hadn't had the heart to magic everything clean. There'd be nothing left to focus on except the fact that Lucretia hasn't moved once.

_ It’s been hours. Should you check on her again? _

“Should call Magnus, more like.” The stove is clean. He’s still scrubbing. Anger tries to bubble in the pit of his stomach but Lucretia’s face the last time she looked at him that morning- red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkles in her face seeming so deep and just days ago he'd asked and Magnus had told him fifty wasn’t even that old for a human so why does Lucretia look like she'll keel over any day now- keeps popping up in his mind's eye and Taako just want to stop thinking about that for, like, ever. “He’d know what to do. Could give her a- a fuckin’ hug or something.”

_ He’ll want to know why you’re here. _

“Right. Fuck.”

But why couldn’t Magnus know Taako was here? Why couldn’t everybody? Hell, he’d practically told Merle where he was going, not that the old coot would really listen to Taako. Everybody could know and then they’d come running with all the freaking soup in the world and blankets and the hugs Taako will never be able to bring himself to give Lucretia and she’d get better and go back to being annoying and lame and someone Taako can hate and everything would be fine and dandy.

_ Because you came here on your own. Because you’re scared for her. What would they say if they knew you’re going soft? Where’s all that righteous anger now, little elf? _

“Gods shut up, will ya?” Taako tells the voice in his head. It really does sound too much like Magnus sometimes. 

_ What are you going to do? _

“I don’t  _ know, _ okay? I don’t fuckin’ know.”

_ Shouldn't have to do any of this shit after what she put you through. Why even come here in the first place? Wasn’t like she checked up on you when she took your entire godsdamn life away. She didn’t make any soup when she made you forget Lup. Took a hundred damn years from you and has she even said sorry? _

“Fuck,” Taako says again. He calls Magnus.

“What’s up?” There’s barking in the background. Of course there is. Maybe if Magnus brought his dogs to the moon it would get Lucretia out of bed. 

“There’s something wrong with Lucretia,” is what Taako means to say. It’s what he should say. It’s what any decent person would say.

“Not much, how you doing broseph?”

Taako is not proud; he can admit when he’s being chickenshit. 

“Eh, I’m okay. Got some new puppies out here, Angus seems to really like them! I might give him one for his birthday, what do you think?”

“Ugh, and who’s gonna have to clean up after it, huh?”

“Oh, definitely you,” Magnus answers cheerfully. “Think Lucretia would let Angus take a puppy when he comes to visit her?”

_ Right. Okay, here’s your chance Taako. You can do this. _

He forces a laugh that scratches his throat raw. “Definitely not. Lady Dickface is too much of a wet blanket. Should be a sign on the moon: ‘No Fun Allowed.’”

_ Taako. What are you doing. _

  
  


“Aw, come on, man,” Magnus is saying.

It’s like he can’t control his mouth though; the words come so easily after all this time spent hating her. “I mean, could you imagine her dealing with the thing? Probably pull a fantasy Cruella de Vil and skin it to make her next cloak.”

_ Taako. What. The. Fuck. _

“Taako.”

Magnus hardly ever sounds so harsh. Taako's mouth snaps shut on instinct, and, glad his friend cannot see him, Taako closes his eyes in relief. Might be the first time he's ever been glad Magnus likes to interrupt him so much.

_ Oh thank the gods. _

“Would you lay off the Lucretia hate for like, ten seconds, man?” Magnus is sharp. Angry. Fuck, when did everyone in his life get so angry? When did _he_ get so angry all the time? “You’ve been at it for most of a year, dude. You’re gonna have to forgive her eventually.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Taako snaps and hangs up. 

_ Well that wasn’t at all productive. _

“Shut the fuck  _ up. _ ”

He hates this. He doesn’t even know what this is but he hates it. What is he _ doing _ here? Magnus is right; Taako’s been on the Lucretia Blame Train for months, could hardly think about her without a churning in his gut most days and he still can’t stand the sight of umbrellas. But one little scrape with death and he comes running back to her? Gods, he really is a trained lapdog for the Director, isn't he?

If there’s one thing Taako hates, it’s self-reflection. He’s tired; tired of being confused, tired of people trying to get him to let go of the past, tired of caring so fucking much. He’s tired of being the adult.

“Fuck this. Fuck this.”

Taako’s legs are about eighty percent of his body mass; his strides are long and before he even really knows what’s happening, he's across the apartment. His hand is on the doorknob. The metal is cool to the touch, welcoming against his heated skin.

He gives in to the urge to look back. Lucretia’s bedroom door remains tightly shut. There is no noise from within.

“Should just get the fuck outta here,” Taako mutters to himself, unsure if he sounds even a little convincing. Not giving himself much time to think, Taako yanks the door open. It’s not like he can do much else for her anyway; he’d yelled at the clerics, he’d sent word to Raven’s Roost. He'd turned that last guy into ashes, for the gods' sake. He’d made freakin’ soup. 

He’s tired and he’s going home. Maybe the world will make sense in the morning.

Taako steps out into the hallway, feeling strangely as if his heart has dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of his boots, and turns to shut away the sight of Lucretia’s closed bedroom door.

Maybe it’s that last glance that does it. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s pricking his ears in her direction even as he leaves, just in case. Just in case she needs-

Well.

Taako’s hyper-vigilance pays off in any case when he hears the faint, telltale crack of a teleportation spell going off on the other side of Lucretia’s door. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got four papers and two tests coming up so this may be it for a while. Thanks for reading!

For the second time in less than a day Lucretia wakes up to someone’s hands on her throat. Unlike Taako, this tiefling is not worried about being gentle. 

The red of the female tiefling’s skin reminds her of her old robes and even if she wasn’t choking the very air out of Lucretia’s lungs, she would have found it very hard to breathe. As it is, Lucretia gasps, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Automatically, she throws up her hands, one palm pushing at the tiefling’s face, the other wrapping around one of her wrists. 

Her fingers are weak, though, and all these attacks are- draining her, slowly. Maybe that’s their plan for her. Wear her down, get her to lose sleep, get her hurt, make sure she can’t send higher level spells at them with the blink of an eye. It’s smart. It’s what Lucretia would have done.

_ Should just let it end.  _ She thinks. Her fingers feel like papier-mâché wrapped around the stone-like muscle of the woman on top of her; she squeezes anyway, sparks of magic dancing along her fingertips and probably burning the tiefling, but it’s not enough to do any real damage. Probably feels like nothing more than a slight burn, or the sting of a very determined bee. 

_ What day is it? _

Not this again.

But the voice of reason in her head has a point- it’s around twelve days still, and she made a promise to her old friends, silent as it may have been. And Lucretia of Faerun always keeps her word.

The lack of oxygen is driving away the fog in her brain, replacing it with black dots at the edges of her vision. It almost feels like she’s getting some strength back in return, some sort of will not to die just yet. But with the way out so  _ close _ \- close enough that Lucretia wishes for her breath back to tell it to invest in some breath mints- it’s hard to force herself to wriggle underneath the tiefling’s weight, to search her mind for the right spells. There’s a faint ringing in her ears. She could just lay here and take it, let the black close in on her. It would be so easy. 

And then the door to her room bursts open and a flash of red magic slams into the tiefling’s back. She goes sprawling over the edge of Lucretia’s mattress with a yelp; Lucretia, in turn, rolls onto her side, away from the attacker, and concentrates on not hacking up a lung. She tries to hold a hand to her tenderized throat, but winces and lets it drop when new bruises throb under her touch.

“I am getting so sick of this shit,” Taako snaps. 

Lucretia can’t help but agree. She wheezes in reply.

This new contender seems more hardy than the last, though, because she’s back up with a snarled Acid Splash thrown Taako’s way. He curses, scrambling back, and Lucretia’s blankets and carpet go up in smoke.

“Hey, watch it, these boots are fantasy Gucci,” he says, but his voice is tight and angry, lacking any of his usual bravado. All this time spent with Lucretia must be wearing on him.

_ Nothing but a burden, _ Lucretia admonishes herself.  _ Can’t even get one night’s sleep without causing a ruckus. _

As the tiefling readies herself and Taako opens his mouth to- well, Lucretia isn’t sure what he’s about to do but it’s probably showy and extravagant and borderline inappropriate- Lucretia holds out one hand; in a moment, the Bulwark Staff is in her palm. It purrs a greeting, sending a thread of concern through her mind.

_ Don’t worry about me _ , she tells it, and casts Sanctuary on Taako. It’s only level one, but as she’s currently sprawled out on her side, coughing her way back to semi-life, it’s the best Lucretia can do.

Taako barely acknowledges it, but his ears twitch in her direction. He steps further into the room, neatly avoiding the smoking hole in her floor, and twirls his wand in one hand. 

“Lucy, how about you come on over here.” He doesn't take his eyes off the tiefling. She growls, nearly spitting, and Taako smirks. There is no humor in his eyes. 

Lucretia is so tired. It’d be so simple- peace is standing just at the end of her bed, glaring at her.

_ Twelve days. You owe it to him. _

_ Gods this sucks. _

Lucretia scrambles off the bed, almost tripping as her ankles become tangled in her sheets. Her robes are sweat stained and ragged, sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She feels gross but can’t really bring herself to care. Her head aches, her limbs ache, her heart aches. She wants to lay down again.

Taako holds out his free hand and, without thinking, Lucretia takes it. He tugs her back behind him and she can’t help but arch an eyebrow. A warm curl of something she remembers from the Starblaster days makes an unexpected appearance in her gut.

“The Ragged Harmony will have your blood,” the tiefling says, eyes blazing. She’s sizing them up, eyeing the way Lucretia lists to the side and holds herself around the ribs; they’re still tender, and with her throat abused, now she won’t be able to get out any spells she needs to speak to cast as well as she could have before. The tiefling turns her attention to Taako, - perhaps rightly- deciding that he is the biggest threat in the room. If Lucretia were able to feel anything but dread and an overwhelming tiredness right now, she’d be a little offended. 

“I hope you don’t all wear white,” Lucretia musters the energy to reply glibly, gesturing to her tunic, “it will stain so horribly.”

“Dude, what the  _ fuck _ .” Taako’s palm is clammy against her own too dry skin and now his fingers squeeze hers to the point where she’d usually probably feel pain. But with how numb she feels these days, it’s just a strange sort of pulsing against her skin. It’s almost pins and needles as if her hand has fallen asleep.

Lucretia shrugs one shoulder. Her bones still feel like lead and even after all that time in bed she feels like she could sleep for years. 

_ I wish I hadn’t woken up before she finished the job. _

_ It’s not about what you want. It never has been.  _

Right. Right, of course.

Lucretia tunes back in just as the woman sends a Banishing Smite towards Taako.

Gods damn her, but that’s the one thing that could spur her to action.

“ _ No _ .” 

It takes her less than a second to cast a Shield of Faith around Taako; next, Lucretia uses their still locked hands to Ward him from death. Weak as she is, it doesn't stretch very far, and she's out of spell slots, but Taako is protected and that's enough. That's more than enough.

“Would’ve worked better if you did that for both of us," Taako says, but Lucretia barely hears him, like a fly buzzing in her ear compared to the roaring in her head. For the first time some emotion breaks through the walls she didn’t know were erected days ago. 

“ _ Not him _ .” Fury burns through her. Something about her face must break through the tiefling’s bluster, because she makes an aborted movement as if to step back. “You can kill me but you may  _ never  _ hurt him. Not  _ any _ of them.”

_ “What the fuck, Lucretia!” _

“You must pay for your actions, Lucretia of Faerun,” the tiefling repeats. She bares her teeth but Lucretia has not been able to bring herself to fear death in a long time. “We will do whatever it takes to bring about our vengeance. We are one and we are many and we have come to signal your end."

And because the universe hates Lucretia, another crack of teleportation emanates from her living room at that exact moment. And then another. And another.

If it were her alone in here, it might have been a relief. It might have meant peace. She has been longing to hear her own death kneel. But she isn't alone.

“Oh, fuck  _ this _ noise,” Taako says. Lucretia had stepped before him to hiss her own warning at the tiefling, and now he wraps one arm around her waist from behind and casts Rope Trick. 

He hauls her into the strange darkness at the end of the rope before Lucretia can even get a word in edgewise. Her last sight is of a screaming tiefling thrusting her hands out towards them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all. So I just have to explain something real quick:
> 
> This month has been a lot for me. I got the news that someone in my family was really sick weeks ago and it took a long time for the tests that the doctors did to be processed. That family member is alright now, although they will be watched carefully for a while. Then midterms hit at my university and I had to register for new classes for next quarter and all of this was happening while I'm away from my family and on my own. I was not in the best place mentally and I realized that I had to take a break from writing, and more importantly, writing this fic in particular. I couldn't write about Lucretia struggling with mental illness when I myself was struggling mentally. That is not to say I didn't want to write- I did, but I knew if I tried to get back on the angst train so soon after the health scare that I would simply be damaging myself. I waited until now, when I'm in a better place mentally and emotionally. That is something I think a lot of fic writers, new ones in particular, should learn about; know your limits and respect them. Sometimes you'll want to cross a boundary you know is bad for you, but your health always comes first. Even when you don't feel like it should.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Part of Taako wants to release Lucretia as soon as they’re safe, fling himself away and demand answers for her shitty attitude. Instead, he finds he can’t force himself not to listen to the other part of his brain, the part that tells him to keep hold of her and _ don’t let go. _ Once again his fingers have turned to claws in her robes and Lucretia lets out a muffled grunt as her face gets smashed into Taako’s shoulder.

She puts her hands on his chest like she’s gonna try to push him away and Taako’s arm tightens around her back. He grips her shoulder with his free hand. He can’t help but shake her.

“What. The. Fuck.” His teeth are gritted but he manages to push the words out passed a tongue that feels too thick. His head is swimming with too much emotion, his ears are still ringing from the fight. Lucretia’s protection spells still buzz lightly against his skin, making him feel overheated and feverish compared to her unprotected, too cool skin. He shakes her again, unmindful of how limp she is in his grasp. “What the fuck was that, Lucretia?”

“It seems the Ragged Harmony have infiltrated my Bureau,” Lucretia answers, guessing the meaning behind his frantic questions incorrectly. She ignores his too tight grip and the way he won’t let her get out of arm’s reach and, after an awkward second, props her chin on his shoulder to speak clearly. Her voice is too thin and too reedy; she leans heavily against Taako, like she doesn’t have enough strength to remain upright on her own and Taako seethes.“If I had to wager a guess, I’d say they probably have an insider helping them with transport and teleportation. Maybe one of the new hires; they could easily have placed a mole in our midst when we had to take on new hands after the Day of Story and Song. Many of our personnel wanted to retire home to their families, so the hiring process was rushed, we were too busy to do proper background checks-”

_ “I’m not talking about the fucking fight!” _

Lucretia is silent for a long moment in which Taako stares out into the void he’s created for them and wishes he were anywhere else right about now. He wishes none of this had happened. He wishes he knew what to do.

“What are you asking about, then?” Lucretia is conversational, light, too poised to be anything but on edge. Taako growls and resists the urge to shake her again. He thinks about shoving her away, making her stand on her own and let him judge her from afar but after what she told that tiefling, Taako just_ can’t_.

“You told that asshole she could kill you.” The words are painful, cutting his throat and tearing at his tongue to shreds as they exit his mouth and Lucretia flinches, like she too feels the barbs.

“Ah. That.”

“Yeah, you dick,” Taako agrees, none too happily. “So what the fuck is up, compadre?”

There’s a beat of silence. Lucretia shifts against his shoulder. Her chin is bony and sharp; she hasn’t been eating enough. Taako remembers on the Starblaster, when she’d drop weight at a moment’s notice. There was something in her genes that simply wouldn’t let her retain weight if her diet changed in the slightest. He remembers how he used to make a game of it in the early days, trying different dishes out on her, putting more butter than usual in this pasta or loading her up with extra helpings of that roast. He remembers the bad cycles, when they were starving and Lucretia looked like a skeleton with the skin pulled too taut over her bones and he’d practically shoved any food he could down her throat to keep her alive. 

Taako had wondered once, after the Day of Story and Song, if there was anyone at the Bureau who reminded her to eat during all those years Lucretia was alone. He’d hated himself then for even considering being concerned for her well-being. Now, with his arms wrapped around a frame that should be at least twice the size it is now, all her bony bits pressing into his ribs, Taako curses himself for not seeing it sooner. She has no one. Lucretia hasn't had anyone in a long time.

_ She left you all behind, of course she has no one. _

_ Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. _

“Well, it’s not as if-” Lucretia starts, only to cut herself off. He can feel the hesitation prickling at her skin. He knows Lucretia; right now, she’s trying to formulate just the right response. She’s still a lot like she used to be on the Starblaster, always trying to find the right thing to say to keep everyone calm. 

Taako is frankly sick of it.

“That is to say- I would assume that you’d understand.”

Taako freezes. His arms are stiff around her ribs; his hands ache from how tightly he is clutching her robes in his fists. “What,” Taako says very, very carefully, “could you  _ possibly  _ mean by that?”

Lucretia has the worst habit of being tight lipped when it counts the most, so Taako isn’t too surprised when she doesn’t answer.

“Are you asking me to understand why you are under the impression that it’s okay for you to get killed, Lucretia?”

“Taako…”

“Because it sounds like that’s what you’re asking me to do.” Taako speaks over her. His voice is rising but he can’t seem to stop it. “It seems like you’re saying I should get why you think it’s just fine and dandy for you to be dead. It sounds like you’re okay with dying and you want me to be okay with that too. Is that what you’re saying?”

Her silence is telling.

_ “Oh my fucking gods, Lucretia.” _ Taako nearly screams. She struggles briefly in his hold, trying to put space between them- Taako’s not sure if it’s because she’s scared or because he’s too loud or because she just doesn’t want to have this conversation and Lucretia is good at nothing if not running away from important conversations but he tightens his already painful grip, refusing to release her. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“Wh-what? But-”

“You think I’m that fucked up? That I’d just- just stand by and let this happen?”

Lucretia’s voice is low compared to his own and her hands ball into fists against Taako’s chest. She drops her head so he can’t lean back to read her face and Taako is almost grateful for it because he’s not sure he could stand to look at her right now. “You seemed all too happy to hold me accountable for my actions before. Why not now?”

“Accountable?” That throws Taako for a loop for only a moment before ice floods his gut. “Oh, gods, you- you’re not talking about…”

He’s had nightmares, since that day, of finishing his countdown, of Magnus at his side, of Merle not stopping them soon enough. His stomach turns and his sight is too blurry and  _ gods _ , Taako doesn’t think he can handle this. This is so much worse than he thought.

“I tore the world apart, Taako. Maybe- maybe there’s a point of no return for someone like me.”

Taako’s face is numb. His hands are losing feeling but it feels like his skin is tingling, some emotion too powerful and strange for him to name sparking where he’s touching her. He’s not getting enough oxygen because Lucretia might as well have just punched him in the stomach.

“What do you mean, someone like you?”

“Someone who ruined so many lives,” Lucretia clarifies and Taako can’t decide which is worse: the words that spill from her mouth or the matter-of-fact way she says them. “Someone you have every right to hate for ruining your life for so many years.”

The disgusting, slimy, furious part of Taako purrs in satisfaction. He can see in his mind’s eye that gross fantasy he had in those early days after everything ended, when he’d thought about what Lucretia’s body would have looked like, broken and small on the ground at his feet. 

Taako rejects that shit so fast his head nearly spins.

“You got a real shitty habit of putting words in other people’s mouths, bubeleh.”

Lucretia jerks against him, and Taako pulls back to look her in the face for the first time in at least a day. She looks about as bad as he feels and Taako opens his mouth to say something- he’s not sure what he's going to do, berate her some more, maybe, or say something incredibly cheesy that he’ll never admit he said in the future, or maybe just to ask if she’s okay-

Lucretia’s entire front is stained vermillion red. 

_ “Oh fuck!” _

Taako can’t help but jump away from her as the shock hits his veins; then the adrenaline kicks in and he’s back in her space just as quickly. He tries to steady her as she wobbles, but Lucretia loses her fight with gravity and all he can do is slow her descent from a fall to a sort of awkward slump. She ends up half in his lap, her head against his shoulder again. 

It’s then that Taako notices that his own clothes are stained with Lucretia’s blood. 

“How did-”

“The tiefling,” Lucretia tells him. Her voice is very weak. She sighs and presses one hand to her side, wincing as her fingertips brush the edges of the slash across her stomach. “Threw some spell at us when you were pulling me up with you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, you absolute idiot?” Taako shrieks. He shifts her in his arms, trying to get a good look at the torn up skin and viscera and blood without really having to see it at all.

“You wanted this yourself, Taako; you can’t seriously tell me you didn’t see something like this coming.”

“You can just shut your fucking mouth,” Taako snaps, hands fluttering at her abdomen uselessly. After a second, he presses shaking palms to her stomach, trying not to grimace as blood wells up between his fingers. He’s been covered in Lucretia’s blood too many times this week. “I don’t fucking want this, you got that? I don’t _ fucking  _ want this.” 

Lucretia snorts disbelievingly and Taako lets out a high pitched whine, desperation making his limbs shake, his breathing ratchet up.

“Yes, well,” Lucretia gasps, her lips twitching weakly. There’s something terrible in her eyes, like she’s not too unhappy with the situation. “There’s not much we can do now, is there?”

_ She’s not going to fight.  _

A sort of amused, dreadful calm washes over Taako. He closes his gaping mouth. He reaches out and guides Lucretia’s hands to cover her wound more fully, makes sure she’s putting pressure on it. He pulls out his stone of farspeech and dials a number he hasn't used in months. Then he rocks back on his heels and worms his arms under her shoulders and knees and, with an almighty huff, drags them both upright.

“Yes there is.” Taako tells Lucretia. He hefts her a little, getting comfortable. He’s going to have to be fast. “We’re going to make a run for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That has got to be the most aggressive hug I've ever written


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude.

Captain Davenport knows it’s about time he comes home when Taako’s voice wafts through his farspeech stone. As friendly as they are, the elf hasn’t called him since the Day of Story and Song. This has to be important. He's been traveling since they defeated the Hunger and although he has been feeling a bit homesick for his loved ones, he hasn't been able to shake the feeling that if he goes to land once more he may never return to his ship again. 

He takes a deep breath before answering. Just in case. “Hail and well met, Taako-”

“Davenport, get your ass to the Bureau ASAP,” Taako snaps. There’s a tinny feedback crackling behind his voice, the type that only comes with someone on the other end of the line not being on the same plane of existence, and Davenport winces. 

Then Taako’s words register and he jerks back, staring at the farspeech stone like Taako can see his incredulity through the sheer force of his expression alone. 

“I’m  _ never  _ going back there again.”

“Cap’n, I  _ really  _ don’t have time to argue about this with you.” Taako sounds strained. There’s shifting in the background now, like he’s hefting something up. Cloth rustles. Someone lets out a pained whimper and Davenport feels his ears prick. A pit opens in his stomach.

“What was that? Who was that? Taako, what’s going on?”

“What did I just say about not having time?” Taako says, exasperated. But he relents in the next moment. “You gotta come help Lucretia, okay?”

_Taako_ wants him to help_ Lucretia?_ Surely somewhere in the ether the Raven Queen is screaming as hell freezes over.

Even as ice floods his veins, Davenport feels his gorge rise, his cheeks flush with heat. Rage pricks at the backs of his eyes and for a moment, his tongue doesn’t work. He’s back to being a silent, dumbstruck idiot.

He’s back to being what she made him.

Then his tongue unties itself and he’s spitting mad. “What could_ possibly_ make you think I would be willing to come back to help her?”

There’s a weak, resigned sounding laugh- That's not Taako’s voice, he knows that voice what the hell is going on here?- that chokes off abruptly. Taako sounds like he’s gritting his teeth as he speaks and Davenport’s hands tighten on the railing of his ship reflexively. The hairs on the back of his neck rise and his eyes dart to and fro in a search for danger that he knows he simply won’t find. Not here.

No, the danger is at the Bureau. Where Lucretia is.

“You’re going to help us,” Taako explains, keeping a very tight grip on his tone, “because there are at least four people who desperately want to assassinate Lucretia hanging out in her living room as we speak and I can’t hold Rope Trick for very much longer. And because despite all she's done, she's your friend, Davenport."

Davenport’s heart drops to somewhere around his toes as Taako’s words worm their way inside his brain. 

Well. That should do it.

This has happened before. The poison Killian saved her from. The people at the cliff’s edge, ready to throw her over. The blade to her throat.

He never told Lucretia about the other times- not that he _could_, when she reduced him to little more than a husk, so stupid he couldn’t even say anything more than his own name- but there were others. Oh, yes. There were others.

He may not be able to forgive much of what Lucretia has done, but by the gods, there’s some blood on his hands he has spilled in her name that Davenport doesn’t mind if he never washes off. Some of the things he'd seen- some of the things he knows her enemies wanted to do to her-

There was a group once that worshiped the Hunger. He’d heard whispers behind Lucretia’s back, had ferreted them out, had seen what they were capable of, what they had planned for Lucretia herself-

He'd done things that day he'll never forget. That doesn't mean he'll ever regret them either.

Lucretia never found out. He’d made sure all their friends did.

Killian and Carey had steered clear of him for a while after that episode; Davenport still isn't sure how much they know about what happened but at the time, he couldn't care less. Now, he figures it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. He’d thought Lucretia hadn’t noticed how close he’d stuck after that, but for a while Davenport has had the sneaking suspicion she’d been glad for the company.  Or worse; that she needed the protection. And he left. Davenport left her and now something has happened and that  _ laugh _ -

He’s never heard Lucretia make a sound like that before. It sends a shiver down his spine just thinking about it. It makes him think of barren land, wind rattling bare branches against a blood red sky.

No, he’d be very happy never to hear a noise like that come from her mouth ever again.

“Davenport!” Taako’s voice breaks through his reverie and Davenport realizes with a guilty jolt that he hasn’t been listening. “Look, just get here as soon as you can, alright? Killian and Carey are on their way but I haven’t heard from them since I sent word almost a day ago- I wouldn’t be surprised if these bastards have been stopping us from getting any outside help- and we can’t exactly stay here while I call every single person I know for help. We’re sitting ducks, and-”

His voice breaks and Davenport’s heart leaps to his throat. He throws himself back from the railing of his ship, already hurtling towards the control room. 

“Taako? Taako, what’s happening?” 

He’s slipped back into his ‘Captain’ voice, the one he used to use in the Starblaster days, when his crew would grow upset and worried and ragged and he’d held them all together with the palms of two shaking hands. 

“She’s hurt, Dav,” Taako says quietly. “She’s hurt real bad. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’m on my way,” Davenport promises. It's such an easy vow to make.

“Thanks-” Taako cuts off with a curse. Davenport skids around a corner, careens into a door, and fumbles to keep himself upright. He doesn't know what a newborn foal feels when it first tries to stand, but the weak, wobbly feeling in his knees when Taako’s line goes silent for a moment may be giving him some idea. 

“ _ Taako- _ ”

“Shit, you gotta get here fast, amigo, I can’t hold this Rope Trick much longer. Lucy’s losing a lot of blood; I gotta get her to the clerics, like, _ yesterday _ .”

There’s a weak murmuring in the background and Davenport thinks he might just catch the end of a sentence. It freezes his heart solid. 

_ “-don’t even bother. It’ll be over soon-”  _ It's just enough to make Davenport's hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching like he's looking for a neck to throttle. He's not sure anymore if it's rage at Lucretia or rather for her that courses through him.  The rest is muffled from distance and Taako has obviously pulled away from his farspeech stone when he answers.

“Shut the fuck up Lucretia, you officially don’t get a say in this anymore.” Taako’s voice gets louder again as he speaks into the stone again and Davenport starts breathing again. “Look, get anybody you can and get here now, okay?”

“We’ll be there.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Gotta go, Cap.”

“Wait-”

He hesitates even though he knows- he _knows_\- that time is most certainly of the essence right now.

“Kinda on a time crunch here, Cap’n,” Taako reminds him aptly. “What’s up?”

“Why me? Why call me, out of all of us?”

Taako snorts. It’s so familiar Davenport is thrown almost violently back to the Starblaster. “You’re the only one of us with a ship big enough to get everybody here. And Dav-”

It’s Taako’s turn to fall silent for a long second. 

“Yes?”

“Be angry at her tomorrow, when we’re all not dead, okay?”

Something settles, feather-light and warmer than Davenport expects, in his chest. He huffs- the closest to a laugh that he’s going to get in a long time- and nods even though Taako can’t see. 

“Got it. See you two soon- and be safe, alright?”

“Way ahead of you, compadre.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your supportive comments!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this quarter at my university and this new chapter is my celebration of winter break! Everyone have a happy holiday :)
> 
> On a serious note, there's violence and blood in this chapter. We're nearing the end, folks.

Taako sets off a Pyrotechnics spell the second his Rope Trick runs out. Red and gold fireworks shoot out from his wand, ricocheting off Lucretia’s bedroom walls and bouncing around the already torn up room. He ducks his head low as one burst of sparks crashes into her mirror; the glass shatters with a loud crack and a sheet of it comes tumbling to the floor. Shards splinter apart and rain down around them. Lucretia instinctively tucks her face into his shoulder and Taako’s fingers unconsciously grip just that bit tighter around her.

The tiefling, singed and bloodied, screams a war-cry at them and charges. Taako twists away, squeezing his eyes shut- and then Lucretia’s Sanctuary spell kicks in. The woman is throws back three steps and howls before raising her wand.

Taako Magic Missiles her before dodging out of the way of a halfling rogue that appears out of the corner of his eye, going for his knees with a wicked looking dagger. 

Lucretia snorts a little; huddled against his chest as she is, Taako can feel it vibrate through him. Despite the blood leaking between her fingers, despite the fight for their lives, despite his rage at her for months on end, Taako feels his lips twitching. 

“Magic Missile, really?”

“Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” He slams his shoulder against her bedroom door, buffeting back whoever had taken up an offensive position behind it as he does. He keeps his head down, spinning to face a goblin with a short sword who stumbles, before the halfling appears through the doorway too and helps his companion regain his balance. For a second Taako thinks maybe they’ll be able to get out of this relatively unscathed.

_ There were four of them, weren’t there? _

Taako inhales sharply just as Lucretia gives a wordless cry of warning where she is peeking up over his shoulder. He ducks, twisting away from whatever whistles past, a hair’s breadth from his ear. His jostling of her makes Lucretia groan but Taako doesn’t have the time to apologize. 

The elf on the far side of the room readies her crossbow again and Taako snarls.

“Give us Lucretia of Faerun,” The elf replies, almost blandly, “and no one has to get hurt.”

“Uh, you literally just tried to shoot me in the head,” Taako points out. The elf shrugs, and aims at Lucretia.

“What the fuck is your  _ problem? _ ” Taako asks, more rhetorically than anything else, and tries out a Barklike spell on Lucretia. For a second, he can feel her skin harden, turn rough and coarse. Her face looks strange, flaky and lined and distinctly inhuman. 

Then the spell fails and she smiles a tremulous, defeated, desperately kind smile at him.

“What the fuck Lucretia, come on, you know it’s gotta be a willing subject.” Taako snaps. She shrugs.

“Sorry.”

_ She doesn’t sound very sorry. _

Taako dances away from the goblin’s stabbing, but takes a cut to the back of his shin from the halfing for his efforts. Lucretia struggles briefly, looking like she’ll try to convince him to leave her again at any second and Taako is honestly so fucking done with this entire situation.

“We really need to work on your priorities,” he tells her before Thorn Whipping the crossbow from the elf’s hands. She howls, taken aback, and lunges. With one of his last spellslots, Taako casts Expeditious Retreat on himself and Dashes for the door.

He swerves at the last second though, when the door burst open, rebounding off the wall behind it and vibrating on its hinges. Faster than Taako’s eye can see, a blur of brassy, copper metal flies through the air only to reform itself into a spear lodged firmly in the elf’s chest. 

She looks down at it, hands coming up to clutch at the shaft as if in disbelief. Her eyes are wide. She gurgles, looks up, finds Lucretia. The elf tries to reach out toward her, fingers becoming claws, takes a step, and falls.

“Taako, Madam Director,” Avi says, voice clipped and professional. As he steps into the room, the halfling and the goblin spread out. They move warily, as if Avi is more of a threat an Taako and Lucretia combined. Granted, Taako’s down to two spellslots and Lucretia is pretty much dead weight- literally- at this point, but that doesn’t mean it doesn't sting a little. They’re two of the most powerful wizards in the plane here,  _ hello! _ “Would you like some help?”

“Avi, I love you.” He darts past the guard and hefts Lucretia up. Somewhere in all the twisting and dodging and running, Lucretia has gone quiet. When he checks on her, her eyes are half lidded and her hands are limp where she’s clutching her abdomen. He shakes her as much as he dares and she jolts, hissing, eyes wide open.

“ _ Stay awake _ ,” Taako tells her, and then to Avi, “kill the bastards, would you? Where are Killian and Carey?”

“Right here,” Carey says from behind him. Taako slips out of her way, smooth as silk; Killian has already darted past him into Lucretia’s apartments and Taako expects the screaming to start any moment. “Avi, Taako, get her to the healers. We’ve got this.”

Avi looks like he might protest, hand on the pommel of a sword strapped to his hip- is that new? Taako hasn’t seen that ornate scabbard before, boy’s got some new bling- but eventually he relents and steps back begrudgingly. 

Avi shuts the door, motioning to the guard Taako hasn’t even realized was there with a hand signal he knows for a fact means to bring backup. The guard hustles off, spear clanking as he goes. Avi turns back, placing a careful hand on Lucretia’s arm, the only spot he can reach that’s not covered in blood.

“You alright, Lucretia?” His voice is soft, breaking in the middle. This is probably the worst he’s ever seen her. Hell, this is probably the worst _ Taako _ ’s ever seen her, and he’s got a hundred years on the kid.

“Just peachy,” Lucretia replies dryly. Avi’s shoulders relax a fraction- not even close to all the way- and Taako can’t blame him; you usually only really have to worry about Lucretia when she straight up admits what’s wrong.

_ Yeah, ‘cause that’s worked out so well for both of you. _

“Bullshit,” Taako says. “Avi, I don’t know how much blood this idiot has lost. We gotta go.”

Avi nods. “I’m right behind you.”

It’s awful in its familiarity, hustling a semi-conscious Lucretia to the clerics. They’re different from the night Taako brought her in with a head wound. Lucretia had mentioned they were overhauling the staff but it makes it all the harder to hand her off to the elf who offers to take her from him. 

Just like last time, Taako is left standing with Lucretia’s blood on his hands and clothes and staring after her as they rush Lucretia away. 

He really has been doing this too much lately.

_ Not after this, _ Taako promises himself, promises Lucretia.  _ Not anymore. _

Avi puts a hand on his shoulder. When Taako turns, he holds up his stone of farspeech and in a quiet voice informs Taako that Davenport, Merle, Magnus and Kravitz have arrived. “Lup and Barry called to say they’ll be here as soon as they wrap up a reaping,” Avi murmurs. “It’ll only be a half hour at most.”

Taako says nothing. His skin burns and prickles where her blood is drying. His back is stiff. He’s not sure what he’s feeling right now- angry, definitely, at the _audacity_ of these people to come into his- into Lucretia’s home and try to violate her like this, or helplessness, probably, that he can’t do anything more, and maybe, just possibly, he misses Lucretia just a little bit. She’s not even gone and he _misses_ her.

_ Or has she been slipping away from you this whole time and you just never noticed? _

“You wanna go talk to everybody?”

Taako balks at the idea of all those eyes, those friends’ faces staring at him, judging his actions- why didn’t you do more? How could you not have seen?

_ They didn’t see her either. _

“Let’s check on Killian and Carey first,” Taako suggests, trying not to make it sound like an excuse. “Then- then I’ll tell you what I know. I don't want to have to go through it more than I have to.”

The thought of rehashing all of it makes his legs feel like jelly.

Turns out, Killian and Carey are just fine. Killian smirks, blood spattered across her neck and forearms, and says nothing when Avi asks her if it’s done.

“Yes,” Carey says, and that’s that.

Taako must be more tired than he thought, because it seems like seconds later he’s standing in one of the Bureau’s many conference rooms. Around the table, much like fantasy King Arthur’s knights, are Davenport, Magnus, Killian, Carey, Merle, Kravitz and Avi. And they’re all looking at him.

Well, never let it be said that Taako didn’t milk the spotlight.

“Things are fucked, ladies and gentlemen,” Taako throws himself into one of the chairs, kicks a leg up over the armrest and tries to tilt his head jauntily at them. Magnus sinks into a chair across from him. His eyes never leave the blood soaking the front of Taako’s shirt. Merle is wringing his hands, a worried crease in his brow and Killian and Avi both look like they want to throttle an explanation out of him.

Taako doesn’t feel right in his own skin.

“Lucretia’s been getting death threats?” Davenport prompts. He’s standing still, but his posture is tight and he’s hiding his hands. Kravitz shifts on his feet but says nothing.

“That’s not what I told you and you know it, Cap’n. Dear Lucy’s been hiding the fact that she has a whole damn murder cult following her.”

There’s silence for a second before the uproar.

Avi, Killian and Carey are all screaming for blood- Taako’s or someone else's, he can’t be certain- Kravitz is wondering why Taako would keep this from them, Merle is asking about how Taako found out but over all the din, Magnus’s voice rises.

“When.” Taako has seldom heard his friend this serious. He's biting out words so harshly they're not even questions. It makes his ears perk instinctively and Taako sits up straight, placing his feet on the ground. The bravado isn’t coming naturally, anyway. “When did you know.”

“Few days ago,” Taako admits, and holds up a hand when several mouths drop open. “I wasn’t going to hide it- I called Davenport, didn’t I? But I didn’t really know what was happening, just that Lucy was acting weird and got hurt a bunch. I stopped one of them from jumping her in her office a couple days ago and sent word to Killian and Carey. The healers know about it too.”

“We never got a message.” Carey looks at Killian for confirmation, who nods, troubled.

Taako nods too. “Yeah. Lucretia has a theory that some of these people- they call themselves the Ragged Harmony- are probably the new hires. She said they probably have been helping their friends with transport here and blocking important messages and stuff.”

“That all doesn’t explain why Lucretia didn’t say anything,” Kravitz points out. When Taako looks up from where he’s been admiring his fingernails- _there’s Lucretia’s blood under them, oh god, her blood is everywhere_\- his eyes are gentle.

“She…”

“Taako?”

He hesitates for a minute more but their faces are worried and lined and he’s so overwhelmed. “She’s in a bad way, guys. Like- like a maybe she doesn’t care if she’s alive, bad way.”

“No,” Merle denies purely on reflex. When Taako meets his eyes, though, he wavers. “She’d- she’d tell us, wouldn’t she?”

“You tell me, Merle. You and Magnus are the ones who sent me to get her to talk to you in the first place.”

Magnus’s face twists a little and he drops his head into his hands. “How could we not have known?”

“Listen, this entire thing is fucked, but it’s gonna be okay now.” Taako says, splaying his hands on the conference room table. “I left Lucretia with the clerics, she's gonna be just fine-  _ is she? _ \- and we’ll find these fuckers and deal with them. It’ll be fine.”

_ It has to be fine. _

“Taako,” Merle says slowly. His face is grey. “Lucretia isn’t in the clerics' wing. I checked there myself while you were getting Killian and Carey.”

A pit forms in Taako’s chest. It’s as if all the oxygen in the room suddenly vanished.

Avi straightens his spine, shifting his feet agitatedly. “What do you mean? We saw them off together. One of the new clerics was carrying her-”

Taako’s running for the transport room before Avi even finishes his sentence.

He skids into the room but knows before he even sees that it's too late. The place is quiet, empty. It's never been empty before. There are no guards. The transport is already disappearing on the horizon. A scream bubbles up in Taako’s throat, the rage threatening to flood his lungs, all-encompassing, seeking to overwhelm him.

It’s then that he hears the tinny feedback somewhere near his boots. He looks down and his brain can’t seem to comprehend what it’s seeing for a moment. Then the swirl of colors resolves itself, some oxygen gets to his brain through a windpipe that feels about as wide as a straw, and Taako is staring at a stone of farspeech.

It doesn’t look like the model the Bureau provides for all its employees. 

Whoever they were talking to is still on the line.

He grips the stone so tightly he thinks for a moment he could simply crush it into dust.

“Where are you taking her?” Taako asks very, very quietly, cutting off whatever order the person was trying to give. There’s a strange beat of silence. 

“You needn’t worry about Lucretia anymore,” the rough voice tells him. Their smug tone makes Taako want to claw someone’s eyes out. “She will bring about the balance she so long promised the world. There is a cost Lucretia of Faerun must pay and we are those brave enough to collect. After all, didn’t you want to kill her after you learned what she’d done? You should be thanking us.”

That is just fuckin’  _ it _ .

“You better listen closely, ‘cuz I’m only gonna say this once, asshole.” Taako grits his teeth. His voice is gravelly, low, angrier than he’s been in a long time. Heat is flooding his veins, spreading from his heart to his fingers to the tips of his ears. He feels like crying. He feels like he could rend metal in two. He feels _ scared _ . “If you hurt her I will not rest, I will not stop, I will not  _ die _ until I tear your still beating heart from your chest with my bare hands and _ eat it _ .”

There’s a pause. Taako breaths harshly and wonders when the world ran red. 

Then the voice chuckles softly. “I’d like to see you try.”

The stone goes silent moments before Taako hurls it at a wall. It makes a dent but he doesn’t feel any better.

“Fuck,” Taako says, because what else is there to say? “ _ Fuck. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news I'm super excited because my first ever dungeons and dragons character went through her first character arc last week! She's a kenku grave domain cleric named Whistler who's a feral little gremlin and I love her so much.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, arriving two months late: hey you guys wanna buy some angst?

“If you ask how this could have happened one more time, Merle, I swear to all that is holy I will throw you off the moon.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Merle tells him, and Taako’s teeth grit so hard they may shatter. Magnus turns the stone of farspeech over and over in his hands. He hasn’t spoken much since they burst into the transport room to find Taako screaming into the void of space. “It doesn’t make any sense. How did we not know about this until—until now?”

Taako snorts, feeling his gorge rise. “Didn’t help that you and Davenport fucked off to who knows where right after the Day of Story and Song.”

Merle shoots him a hurt look at that, and yeah, that was pretty uncalled for but Taako doesn’t care much at the moment. He rips his hat from his head and scrunches it between his fists, seething. He kicks at the wall again and curses when his toes throb.

Lucretia is gone. Lucretia is_ gone_. He promised himself not an hour ago he’d keep her safe. 

“We need Angus,” Magnus says quietly. Taako rips his gaze away from the viewport; he’s been searching the horizon desperately for a hint to Lucretia’s location he knows won’t come. There is nothing but inky blackness beyond. 

“What the hell is a kid gonna do here, Magnus?” Soon the anger will leave him--hopefully, he’s never actually enjoyed the emotion-- and he’ll be exhausted from keeping himself on edge for so long, Taako knows. But right now, he can’t seem to shake it, can’t seem to wipe away the red from his vision. He wants--he wants to _kill_ something. 

“He’s a genius with this stuff,” Magnus holds up the stone of farspeech, “right? He could--he could probably track the signal, or, or--”

Merle shakes his head. Taako can feel the fabric of his hat start to tear as he stretches the fabric too far. He smashes it back down on his scalp, ignoring the twinge as it pulls at the points of his ears.

_This pain is nothing compared to what Lucretia is probably in right now. _

“The stones only work within a certain range, Mags,” Merle says gently and how can he be so gentle right now, Taako wants to scream, to tear at flesh and feel blood spill between his teeth and here Merle is, calmer than he’s ever seen him, thinking things through logically. “They’re long gone by now. He won’t be able to help.”

“We should still tell him.” Taako’s not sure when Avi--or the rest of them, for that matter--got here. He turns his back on them all and clenches his hands around the railing in front of the viewport, staring out into space. “He’ll want to know. He and Lucretia--they’re pretty close.”

“It might be better if we try to find her before we let slip something happened,” Carey counters. “Keep people from worrying too much. Keep the chaos down while we try to do this quietly.”

“_No_.”

Taako’s hair whips across his throat as he twists around. Carey blinks, startled, and moves to take a step back from his surprising ire before she rights herself and raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “You have a better idea?”

“I have an idea of what’s been going on around here because everybody kept fucking quiet,” Taako replies. The breath in his lungs feels smokey, thick. His throat is too tight, and acid eats at his stomach lining. He feels sick.

Avi raises his hands. “Taako, what are you_ talking_ about?” 

“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve been the one person keeping Lucretia alive around here because nobody from the Bureau bothered to let any of the rest of us know what the hell was going on.”

“We’ve been here since the Day of Story and Song,” Killian argues. Her eyes flash but Taako doesn’t back down. He can’t, not now. “We’ve been taking care of her--we’ve tried to help, every day, even when she didn’t want us to.”

“Well you’ve been doing a shitty job.”

“She wouldn’t talk to us!”

“So you just let her wither away?” He screams. “You just stood by and asked her what was wrong and when she told you she was fine you just went on your merry way? You think that’s good enough?”

Her lip curls. Taako barely registers that Merle and Kravitz are flitting at the edges of his tunneling vision, trying to calm him and Killian. Davenport is suspiciously quiet. Taako can see him behind Killian, staring at his hands. 

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you,” Killian sneers. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time you three and Lucretia were in the same room alone.”

“_Shut_ _up!_” Taako thinks he might be shaking pretty hard, because his teeth are almost chattering. He’s not even sure what they’re fighting about anymore but by the Gods he’s not going to back out now. It’s as if he may come untethered from gravity at any moment. He might just lift off into space with how lightheaded his anger leaves him. “Gods damn it, just shut up. That was-- that was--”

Killian looks like she knows she’s winning this argument, but Taako’s not about to let her get away with anything more than a pyrrhic victory. “So how are you gonna stand there and tell me there’s any reason I should listen to you about how to treat Lucretia?” 

“Don’t you dare try to tell me I don’t care about her,” Taako hisses. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. Fire races through his veins, sparks up his spine, works itself deep into his chest. “Don’t you dare.”

“You wanted to _kill_ her,” Killian snaps. Her teeth are bared but Taako isn’t afraid. “You left for _months, _you said you’d never speak to her again and now you come in here all high and mighty--”

_“Where the fuck were you?”_ Taako screams. “Lucretia took you in, gave you a home and a job and a purpose and you stood by and watched her_ waste away!_ She would’ve been dead a week ago if I hadn’t shown up so where the fuck were_ you?_”

Killian surges forward, ready for a fight. He doesn’t even think about it when Fireball starts forming in his palm, anger made physical. He feels like he’s going to boil over anyhow; he might as well do something productive with this rage trapped in his bones.

Magnus shoves his way between them, though, and both Taako and Killian are forced to fall back a step as his broad shoulders fill their vision. Taako can hear Killian growling low in her throat and he’s hard pressed not to hiss back at her like an upset cat. Fireball swirls and dies in his fingers. It’s best to save his spellslots anyway.

“This isn’t going to help anyone, especially not Lucretia,” Magnus mutters. He’s got his hands up, palms out, and Taako has never felt less placated than he does right now. “Taako, I’m not sure what happened between you and Lucy this week, but the rest of us don’t know what you do about all this. Cut us some slack.”

“Some slack,” Taako repeats. His mind goes strangely blank. “Some slack? Some slack, he says. Well, tell me Magnus, how much slack do you think it took us to fucking lose Lucretia?”

Taako throws his arms around, gesturing to encompass the entire Bureau, the emptiness, the loss of one of their own. “Cause we sure cut ourselves some slack there, didn’t we? We sure asked Lucretia to cut us some slack when all we did was leave and write half-assed letters and invite her to fucking barbeques she’d never go to in a million years. She sure let us have all the slack we wanted when we were avoiding her like the plague and pretending she didn’t exist. We really needed that slack so much we ignored all the fucking warning signs of suicidal depression right up until I caught Lucretia about to let some asshole set her on fire in her own godsdamned office.”

There’s a beat of silence after his outburst. Taako refuses to look anywhere but at Magnus’s falling face, his rounded shoulders. “Taako,” he says plaintively.

And just like that, Taako’s fire goes dim. It’s not out, not completely, and it may well never be. But he’s tired now, just like he knew he would be. He wants to sleep. He wants this to all be a dream. He wants Lucretia back. 

“I’m sorry Magnus.” He lowers his arms, eyes heavy and chest heavier. “But I think maybe just this once we have to take some fucking responsibility. We fucked it all up. We fucked Lucretia up.”

_She did this to herself,_ a voice in Taako’s head says, and he jerks a little, shaking. He’s sick of this. 

Magnus’s eyes are wide and overbright, but he nods solemnly all the same. Taako bites back another apology and scrubs at his own eyes, ignoring the fact his hand comes away slightly damp. Around Magnus’s beefy frame, he can catch Killian subsiding, her hands falling limp at her sides. She looks worn and tired. Taako can relate. 

“So what are we going to do now?” 

Barely a second passes after Carey’s tentative inquiry before a portal blasts open behind the group. Magnus and Avi both reach for their weapons, Killian takes a fighting stance, and Taako sighs. His sister always had a flare for the dramatics.

“Where is she?” Lup’s voice is sharp as a dagger and twice as pointed. She doesn’t look at anyone except her brother. It’s actually kind of impressive when she catches the stone of farspeech Magnus tosses her way without looking. Barry peers at it over her shoulder, silent as death. Their robes billow around them until Lup snaps her fingers and her portal closes with a faint popping sound. She doesn’t bother turning when she hands the stone back to Barry. “This is useless now. They’re out of range.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to come up with something else then,” Taako says. His gut squirms uncomfortably. If his sister can’t do it, if Lup and Barry can’t find her, Lucretia is as good as dead. But Lup nods and Barry sets his jaw in determination. 

“Let’s do some soul searching, fellas,” Lup intones gravely, and Taako prays with everything he has to everything he never believed in. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has heavy contemplation of suicidal ideation and some vague descriptions of wounds and healing. There is blood mentioned. Please read responsibly.
> 
> I also want to say that this is a trying time for everyone. I wanted to write something both to relieve my own stress and hopefully to produce something entertaining and stress-relieving for anyone who wants to read it. We are all having a difficult time and the best thing for it, in my opinion, is making someone else smile. Even just once. Even just for a little while. Please be kind to each other; it really does pay forward.
> 
> Most of all, though, be kind to yourself. Be safe. That is the most you can ask of yourself at the best of times. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“Have you prepared Spare the Dying? We need it on stand-by--”

“I’ll cast Healing Word, or should we use Prayer of Healing--”

“As a last ditch, we have enough copper and salt to cast Gentle Repose if anything goes wrong--”

“We need to get the Director to clean rooms--”

“I’ve got her, get the table ready.”

Lucretia’s head spins. She has to close her eyes against the bright lights of the clerics’ wing; her brain feels overstuffed and empty at the same time and the light assaults her senses like someone is stabbing her retinas with shards of glass. She tries to breathe through it, but even that hurts. The edges of her wound pull and stretch, threatening to tear open further and no matter how much Lucretia knows she deserves it, pain is _pain_, and this fucking sucks.

Her breath hitches in a gasp but Lucretia grits her teeth and pushes through it. Above her, she can see the shadows of the three clerics as they flit around her bed, wheeling her deeper into their wing. They’re taking her to a private room. Lucretia doesn’t really understand why; there’s no one else here.

No one--

Lucretia’s eyes shoot open but she ignores the stabbing pain, ignores the way the clerics yelp and snatch at her shoulders, trying to push her back down, ignores the way her wound rips through her gut like fire, and latches onto the nearest person’s forearm. The orc woman from the other morning blinks at her, eyes wide.

“No one else was hurt?” Lucretia asks urgently. Her anxiety pushes at the back of her throat, rising like bile. “No one--Avi, Killian--”

_ Taako? _

Something in the orc woman’s eyes softens and she opens her mouth but seems not to have any words for her. The elf at Lucretia’s other side hasn’t stopped muttering healing words but he squeezes Lucretia’s shoulder gently.

“No one else,” the only human cleric, someone Lucretia doesn't recognize, steps forward. She looks as ruffled and frightened as the others, her blonde curls pulling free of her braid in haphazard clumps. She’s got some of Lucretia’s blood swiped on her cheek from where she brushed her bangs back. She huffs, reaching out to unclasp Lucretia’s hand from around the other woman’s arm. “We need to get you secure, Lucretia of Faerun.”

Something pings at the back of Lucretia’s mind but she slumps back, satisfied. Her fear settles back down. It’s alright now. It’s all going to be alright.

_ You think I’m that fucked up? That I’d just-- just stand by and let this happen? _

_ Please _ , Lucretia begs silently. She is not sure who she’s begging anymore. Taako and the others to let her go, maybe, or possibly the Raven queen herself to take Lucretia's soul already. Or maybe she’s begging the voice in her head to quit speaking.  _ Please just let me rest. Let me rest. I’m so tired. Please.  _

She could stop now. It’s so close, that deep darkness she’s longed for; she can practically taste it, sparking like static on her tongue. She could sleep forever. She could finally be at the end of it all. 

The world could be right again. Lucretia’s friends could truly live in peace.

_ I don’t fucking want this. _

Lucretia closes her eyes again, lets herself be wheeled wherever the clerics want her to go. The blonde human’s braid brushes her newly healed shoulder as she leans forward to check Lucretia’s pulse. It’s too slow, Lucretia could tell her that right now; she can feel her heartbeat, labored and strange in her chest. Like it doesn’t quite know how to give up but wants to, desperately. 

_ I think there’s something wrong with me.  _

She doesn't want to think that. Because if she thinks that then that means Lucretia knows that there’s another way she should be thinking and that means that all this pain, all this time, all this hoping for the end--

No. This has to be the right thing. Dying is the right thing.

Isn’t it?

_ I don’t fucking want this. _

There are hands at her abdomen, there is cloth being bandaged around her. Lucretia wishes she had the strength to tell them not to bother.

Footsteps, loud as thunder in her ears. Her heartbeat, too slow in her chest. The lights have dimmed. She can feel two of the clerics leave her side. The orc says something about getting an herbalist and medical kit, comparing their ingredients for painkillers. 

The pain itself is dull. She’s been in pain for a long time; it’s more of a companion than anything else, at this point. She welcomes it. It means the end is coming. Maybe the clerics will give up in due time. It would be best for everyone if Lucretia simply slips off quietly. 

_ I don’t fucking want this. _

Taako’s hand at her throat, not pressing or squeezing, but helping. Taako’s fingers light on the back of her head, feeling for a wound. Taako tucking her into bed and telling her he’d be there while she sleeps. Taako asking if she’d like some soup when she woke up.

Taako sitting at her hospital bedside that first night, figure blurry when Lucretia opened hazy eyes in the early morning light. Taako’s little finger locked with hers when he’d thought she was asleep and hurt. 

Taako wrapping his arms around Lucretia and not letting go as her blood soaked his shirt clean through. 

_ I don’t fucking want this. _

Oh no. No no no. Not now, not after all this time. She's so close, she could just fall asleep. She could just not wake up. He’d be fine. They’d be fine. It would make them happy.

_ Is that really what you think of me? _

_ Oh Gods.  _

Something strange is happening inside Lucretia’s chest. There’s some warm, small, soft thing spreading through her, warming the base of her throat, pricking the backs of her eyes. She can almost feel Taako’s little finger linked with hers again. 

_ They don’t want this _ , Lucretia thinks. It’s a strange concept. It goes against all logic, against everything Lucretia has led herself to believe for so long. How can it be true?  _ They don’t want this? _

If they don’t want this, if Taako isn't lying--if there’s something wrong with Lucretia herself--if all these months _she’s_ been the one lying to herself--

But this can’t be the case. She’d know the truth. She’d  _ know _ . She is Lucretia of Faerun, she is the Director of the Bureau of Benevolence. She doesn’t make mistakes like this.

_ Except for all the times you do. _

But--but-- no. It can’t be. She can’t have been so, so very wrong, not again. Not about this. She has to be right--she is right. Look at what has happened! The Ragged Harmony wouldn’t be trying to kill her if Lucretia had already atoned for her sins.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? Taako, Lup, Merle, Magnus--whoever-- they could all forgive her but it doesn’t make up for what she’s done to them. To everyone. She has to atone. She has to make amends.

_ Is this what you want? _

_Yes. No._ She thought so, once upon a time. She’d been so very sure.

She’s not so sure now. 

_ Live, _ says a small voice that sounds too close to Taako's in her head. Lucretia feels a whine build in her throat but one cleric is still in the room, pacing about and clinking potions together as they get ready to heal more of the internal trauma, and so Lucretia valiantly suppresses it.  _ You have to live now. For them. _

That sounds...difficult.

_ You’ve never taken the easy way out. _

_You have to know the truth. _

Lucretia opens her eyes. The last cleric is there. Her braid is long and thick and obscures Lucretia’s view of the rest of the room as she bends over the Director. The woman is smiling toothily. She has a soaking wet rag in one hand.

It takes Lucretia’s sluggish brain a second to catch up to what she is seeing.

“No,” the cleric says when Lucretia stiffens, starts to pull away. The fingers of her other hand splay across Lucretia’s forehead and she casts Hold Person. Lucretia is down all her spellslots and almost unconscious. It takes hold immediately. Her limbs lock up in paralysis.

“The Ragged Harmony will welcome you home, Lucretia of Faerun,” the cleric says sweetly, and the rag is pushed roughly against the lower half of Lucretia’s face.

The Chloroform acts quickly. The lights dim again, and as Lucretia drifts, stuck in her own mind, she thinks she can hear Taako’s voice from somewhere far away.

_ I don’t fucking want this. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all safe today. I didn't bother tagging Taako/Kravitz because it's not the focus of this fic and I'd feel rude if people looking for that pairing found my fic cluttering up their tag, but it is here in this chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The thing about searching an entire plane for a single soul, even a soul as singular as Lucretia of Faerun’s, is that it takes a _long _time. Time Taako isn’t sure they actually have. That Lucretia may not have. 

_Where do we go from here?_ Taako finds himself circling back around to every few minutes. Lup and Barry had set up in the conference room again; Avi and Killian and Carey had helped with spell ingredients and kept the rest of the Bureau staff from interfering, but that was pretty much all the help the reapers had been willing to accept. So, while Killian and Carey had stepped in as co-directors and were keeping the peace, it left the rest of them at loose ends. 

It left a long time for Taako to think, an activity he personally hates these days. 

Merle and Magnus are reluctant to leave the conference room on the assumption that the reapers will be able to locate Lucretia and they’ll need to set off at a moment’s notice. Smart, but Taako knows his sister’s tells. She’s not sure she’ll get an answer for them any time soon, he can see it in the way she’s refused to meet anyone’s eyes for the last twenty minutes. 

So Taako leaves. He can’t sit still, can’t focus enough to be of use, can’t help radiating anger and fear and nerves that he can tell put the others’ teeth on edge.

Good. Now they understand exactly what he’s been dealing with for days on end.

He’d gone back to the transport room for a while but staring out into the void of space reminded him too much of the Hunger. So Taako wanders.

Something pulls his feet through the winding halls and domed spheres of the Bureau, and Taako doesn’t question it when he ends up at the Director’s door. Everything seems to lead him back here these days.

He is surprised, however, to find Kravitz standing inside when Taako opens the door.

“Oh. Hey, babe.”

Kravitz seems to restrain himself from pulling a face at Taako’s lackluster greeting, but only just. He looks like he’s been cleaning up in here; the ashes of the elf are gone, along with the rug. Taako hopes he didn’t just vanish it into the ether. He’s pretty sure it was a birthday present. 

The desk is upright now, or at least what’s left of it is. He watches, feeling strangely detached, as Kravitz throws a disgusted glance at Lucretia’s dried blood on one corner and vanishes it in a puff of multicolored smoke. There’s still stains on the floor where the blood soaked right through the carpet, though. Lucretia’s portrait is still a ruin behind Kravitz’s back, the one intact eye illuminated by the weak light pouring in the windows.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, and then stops. He’s looking down at his hands and Taako notices he’s holding a scrap of parchment in one hand, probably something Lucretia wrote. He makes an abortive movement, as if to reach out as Taako moves closer, but stills. He doesn’t look up. “How are you?”

Taako snorts and doesn’t bother to answer. Kravitz has a pretty good idea anyway. They all do, now. “Why aren’t you with Lup and Barry? Thought this whole soul search thing would be all reaper hands on deck.”

Kravitz shrugs and Taako feels the heat of anger trying to rise in his throat--he loves Kravitz, so much, but Lucretia is_ gone_, how can he shrug that off--until the reaper sighs and passes a hand over his mouth. “Searching for a soul without the intent to take it for the Raven Queen, without the orders that make people easier to find--it takes a certain connection to the person. Knowledge of who they are, what they feel, how they think. I don’t know Lucretia enough, really, so I thought I’d give them privacy and head here. To, well.” He gestures helplessly, one-handed, at the wreckage that was once Lucretia’s sanctuary.

Something knotted and thorny unravels in Taako's chest. “To get to know who she is.” He stops himself from saying “was,” but only barely.

_She’s not dead. She’s not dead. She’s not dead._

_Not yet,_ says a voice in his head and Taako wants to kill something. Violently. 

“I want to help,” Kravitz admits quietly. He allows Taako to tangle their fingers together, returning his desperate grip. “But I’m not sure how.”

“You’re helping me,” Taako tells him sincerely. “Being here. You help me.”

Kravitz’s eyes go soft and he leans in to brush his lips over the corner of Taako’s mouth. Even with his mouth tasting like ash, with Lucretia’s blood on his clothes and his heart in his throat, Taako feels his stomach flip. 

“What’s that,” Taako asks as his boyfriend leans back, nodding at the paper Kravitz is holding. 

The other man flinches, just barely. Something in his face twists as he wavers. Taako reaches out and snatches the parchment from Kravitz before he can do anything else. His gut feels cold. Taako’s thoughts swim like they’re trapped in a fishbowl, confused and swarming. What could this be, what could be bad enough that Kravitz wants to hide it from him, what else could go wrong here?

But it’s just-- it’s just a list of names. It’s a list of _their_ names. Lucretia’s looping, precise scrawl in black ink stares innocently back at him as Taako reads the same nonsensical list over again. 

_Davenport_

_Lup_

_Magnus_

_Taako_

_Merle_

_Barry_

_Daniel_

_Bella_

There’s nothing else.

“What is this?” Taako mutters, rereading it again. “Davenport, Lup--who’re Daniel and Bella?”

There’s no answer. A warm palm clasps his shoulder, but the reaper doesn’t answer him. Taako feels as if he might have the flu, chills and heat flashing alternately all over his skin. He feels sick, he feels angry and sad and his throat is so tight it feels like he may never be able to breathe again. What’s happening to him? It’s just a stupid list. There’s not even anything to indicate what it’s for. It’s just a stupid _list_.

So why isn’t Kravitz answering him?

When he looks up, the other man’s eyes are lined with some emotion Taako can’t bring himself to identify. “Who are Daniel and Bella?”

“I don’t know, Taako.”

“What is this? Why-- why are you-- why am I--” Taako clenches his hands around the paper, trembling. It’s old, crinkled and worn like Lucretia had had it for a long time. Like she’d used it everyday, like she ran her fingers over the names again and again. It’s soft, so close to tearing apart in Taako’s fingers. 

_Fragile like Lucretia is._

“I’m not an accomplished empath, Taako.” Kravitz says. He brings his other hand up to clasp both of Taako’s shoulders, fingers digging into the knots of tension there. It’s usually comforting.

Taako does not feel comforted. 

“But?”

Kravitz hesitates. “Krav?” Taako asks, bleakly. It’s just a list of names. Until it isn’t anymore.

“But,” Kravitz says with gravity Taako finds hard to swallow, “I’m here looking for things that will clue me into the emotions Lucretia has been feeling for a while now, things that will help me follow her thought pattern and single it out in this plane, anything that’s tied so tightly to Lucretia that it would echo with her intentions even when she’s long gone...And that paper is the strongest signal I could find here.”

“In the office? She’s got sleeping quarters, you should check there first--”

“In the entire Bureau, Taako.” Kravitz shakes his head. Taako’s eyes are blurring._ Why?_ “There’s a reason those names are on that paper. Lucretia was thinking of you guys, specifically, when she wrote that. She had a goal in mind, and it was steeped in grief and sorrow and a whole lot of self-hatred if the emotional echo we’re both feeling right now is anything to go by. And I--I think you know what this is.”

“She told me, when I opened the Rope Trick into a pocket dimension.” Taako whispers. He can’t look at Kravitz anymore, but he doesn’t see the list of names when he looks down at the parchment in his hands. His eyes are too full to see clearly. “She said--that she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t, wasn't, wasn’t--uh, wasn’t taking the opportunity when it was right in front of me. She thought I’d--that I’d like to watch. When she. You know.”

The ink runs when water hits the paper. Kravitz loops his arms around Taako’s shoulders, loose enough Taako could pull away if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. He doesn't do anything.

That’s what he’s good at these days.

“She thinks we hate her, Krav,” Taako whispers, and it feels disgusting. He feels disgusting, dirty and soiled and ruined just like Lucretia’s office is around him. Because he had hated her, hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

“It’s a list of people she’s willing to die for,” he says and he hates himself for saying it but the words were burning cold in his heart, tearing at his mind, flaying him open unless he said them. They are right and true and terrible, and he could not contain them on his life. “It’s a list of people Lucretia is willing to let kill her.”

Kravitz hauls Taako against him. The paper is crushed in his fist as Taako claws at the back of Kravitz’s cloak, gasping for air he finds thin. He can’t see, can’t think, can’t feel anything but the emptiness in his lungs, his head, his heart. 

“It’ll be okay,” Kravitz is saying from somewhere far away. “We’ll find her. We’ll bring Lucretia back home, Taako, I swear to you.”

But Taako can’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: Lucretia is my favorite character.
> 
> you, my friends, God, everyone: Then stop hurting her.
> 
> me, softly: no.

Lucretia wakes on the cliffs of Neverwinter. More specifically, she wakes inside a drab, grey stone room in a temple on the cliffs of Neverwinter. She can feel the old magicks that used to run through this place vibrating deep within the foundation underneath her. The stone is cold against her skin as she raises herself--gently, gently, she can still feel the wound’s raw edges like a phantom pain even as she skates one hand over the hastily healed skin of her abdomen--but the magic pulses warmly within. Wherever she is, it used to hold powerful beings, maybe deities, once upon a time. But the magic is deep within the stone and when Lucretia instinctively reaches out, it slips away from her like dust on the wind. Nothing but a temple to some long-forgotten deity would be built so far out of the way with so much magic infused in the building itself.

Old magic then, stuff that hadn’t been used in a decade or more. Not prone to reaching out to new magic users anymore--or she just can’t reach it.

There are iron clamps around her wrists that lend themselves to the idea, but Lucretia is apt to believe the two explanations are not mutually exclusive, especially when she locates the one source of weak light--a slit window in the far left wall-- and peers outside. The cliffs of Neverwinter are craggy and foreboding enough to be cliché. There are very few temples still active in the area. 

All of this streaks through Lucretia’s mind with a clinical detachment. There’s another corner of her brain that’s screaming and crying and hyperventilating like a terrified child. Lucretia cordons that part off carefully.

_How are you going to get out of this one, Madam Director?_

Lucretia doesn’t even have the energy to reply. She waves the derisive voice off with a frown, wincing as the new skin over her wound pulls. Her robes are a mess, slashed to ribbons and barely recognizable as the regal costume she designed so long ago, but as she slides down to sit under the window, they’re enough to wrap around herself.

_Why am I here? Why not kill me right away, like the Ragged Harmony have been trying to do for months? Why take me to a secondary location?_

_Because they’re fucking crazy, _says a Taako’s voice in her head and it actually makes Lucretia snort. It hurts her ribs and her head pounds. She sighs. She’s gotten so used to being in pain these days. It’s hard to remember what it feels like not to hurt all over.

_It’s what you deserve._

_No._

_No?_

Lucretia’s hands are old and wrinkled and tremble just a little. Her palms are supposed to be soft, because the Director of the Bureau of Balance never did her own dirty work, but Lucretia’s hands are calloused and the skin is thick and dark where she held her staff, her paintbrush, her quill. Lucretia worked hard and she worked long and not so very long ago she did not work alone.

Right before he’d given her to the healers-who-were-not-healers, Taako had looked her in the eye. Lucretia could count on one hand the times he’s done that since the Day of Story and Song. His eyes had been so blue and so wide and so scared. Her blood had been brushed high across his cheek like a smudged lipstick stain. He’d wanted to say something, she knew it. But he’d opened his mouth and closed it again and he’d looked so close to crying she’d wanted to cry too. He’d tightened his grip on her and Taako had never been very strong and he’d hated her for years and she’d felt _safe_.

He’d held her when she went down. He hadn’t wanted her to die. Davenport had wanted to help.

_They wanted to see you die, up close and personal._

_But--but they hadn’t._ Hell, Taako would not have gone to that much trouble for anyone he even slightly disliked, let alone hated.

_No, you’re lying to yourself,_ says the poison in her mind, and Lucretia laughs because if she doesn’t, she’ll cry. 

_Maybe. Maybe not._

Lucretia is getting very used to being wrong.

The only way Lucretia can measure time in here is the travel of the light coming in through the slit in her window. The dirt and grime on the floor speak to this temple as being abandoned for a long time, but she can see a lighter path through the muck and dust near the north-eastern wall; there’s a door somewhere in the stone, probably operated magically, and it’s been opened and shut more recently. If she strains her eyes, Lucretia thinks she may be able to pick out footprints in the dust coming and going from the spot she’d woken up, but she may just be imagining things. She’s losing light fast.

There’s not much to focus on here, but sometimes she can hear the echo of voices outside her cell. The iron on her wrists is heavy and biting cold and Lucretia spends some time working strips of fabric into the gaps in the circles to protect her skin from chaffing. 

_If Taako hadn’t been feeding me this week I probably could've been skinny enough to slip these, _she catches herself thinking and has to laugh. If Taako hadn’t been around she would’ve been dead four or five times over before she managed to starve herself to death.

_You should be trying to get out, _the logical part of her brain tells Lucretia. _You’re not useless just because you don’t have magic._

“No, I’m useless because I haven’t slept in weeks and I don’t eat and I just almost died for the fourth time,” Lucretia mutters. “Oh, and I’m getting old now, so cheers to that.”

Her back twinges and aches in agreement. 

Lucretia wants to be surprised at herself when she realizes with a jolt that she’s been dozing but she’s so tired all the time. She nearly misses what woke her in the first place until she looks up. The light outside has faded, leaving her in complete darkness.

Except, of course, for the light blue glow coming from the door materializing in the north-eastern wall. It materializes into thick oak wood, warped and rotting, which swings open with a scream from the hinges. Lucretia refuses to scramble to her feet, drawing herself up slowly. She may have lost a lot of herself these days, but she’s hung onto her pride.

A figure steps through, brown hair and brown eyes in a very young face that reminds her so much of herself when she stepped onto the Starblaster for the first time.

“Oh, Daniel.” Lucretia sighs. “What have you gotten yourself into?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned, triumphant over yet another quarter of uni! Now that it's summer, and because I didn't sign up for classes because I didn't realize I'd be stuck inside for three more months when registration hit in February, I'm hoping that I can knock out the rest of this fic in six more chapters, give or take. Thank you for reading and I hope this can bring you some small entertainment.

The list burns against Taako’s breast but he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it. He wants to, desperately, wants to set it alight and watch it burn to ashes in his hands, wants to tear it apart until not even the atoms are left, but he can’t. If Kravitz is right, he can’t afford to lose it; it’s the only thing strong enough to find Lucretia. 

Lup starts speaking almost before Taako gets the door to the conference room open. He and Kravitz file in as quietly as they can. The rest of the party is already there.

Someone has gotten angry in here; the conference table is smashed almost neatly in two, and there are scorch marks on the walls. Taako eyes his sister skeptically and she wrinkles her nose at him in passing. Still the same old Lup then. Taako almost feels vindicated; it’s nice that someone else is feeling the stress he has been.

“We have news and you’re not going to like it,” Lup says, gritting her teeth. “Barry?”

Barry Bluejeans is marginally more under control than his wife, who has flames licking at her curled fists, but his face is still grimmer than it usually is. He hasn’t even taken his hood down. “We keep almost getting a lock on Lucretia's soul but we lose it almost a second later. It hasn’t lasted longer than a minute, and nowhere near enough time to portal to her. All we can tell is that for now, she hasn’t left the mortal plane so... She’s not dead, at least.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Says Killian, voice rough. “So what does this mean, that you can’t find her for good? That she’s, what, between planes or some shit? If she’s on the mortal plane shouldn’t reapers be able to find her? I bet Lucretia died before, wouldn’t the Raven Queen have something out on her? A bounty?”

“She never died nearly as much as the rest of us,” Merle murmurs. “A survivor, that one.”

Lup runs her hands through her hair and growls in frustration. Taako feels disconnected from the sight somehow--maybe because she’s his twin. It feels sort of like watching himself as he worked out what was happening all last week; he knows the fire of her anger because it has lived inside his own chest for days, licking at his innards, turning his brain to mush. Now, though, he just feels numb. The list sears at his flesh under his shirt. He doesn’t want to have to pull it out.

“I think whoever has been able to teleport people directly into the Bureau is working on land now,” she says, gaze never wavering from the map they’ve pinned to one half of the broken table. It tilts dangerously, but she doesn’t seem to mind. There are a dozen little dots of light across the surface of the map, twinkling in vastly different locations; the most faded one is in Refuge, then another dim one in Rockport. One is in New Phandalin, and another brighter one in Neverwinter. As they watch, another light flickers into existence near where this world's version of Raven’s Roost would be and Magnus lets out a strangled sound. Merle puts a hand on his forearm but the human doesn’t move, his face stricken. Taako’s stomach sinks and his sister continues. “They’re teleporting every few minutes, so we can’t do more than lock on to one location before they’ve moved to the next. It must be something like the bubble you guys encountered around Refuge, some spell that can contain an entire location within it while the magic does its work, because there were so many people working together in the Ragged Harmony--the magic to do individual teleportations of this magnitude every few minutes would be enormous and take way more time. We’d spot Lucretia's soul in time before the teleportation could take place. They’ve got to be moving everyone at once, including Lucy.”

“And I’ll bet they’ve got some kind of cloaking working too,” Barry adds, tapping the newest light, which appears near Bottlenose Cove. It’s Merle’s turn to pale and his fingers slide off of Magnus’s arm. Taako knows how he’s feeling; Lucretia is so close to home, and yet, somehow, farther away from them than ever. “Of course, they’ve got nothing on us, and we can at least sense the faint traces of teleportation, but nothing more than that. We’ve got no idea what’s waiting for us if we can even get a surefire idea of one location long enough to still have Lucretia be there when we arrive.”

“So what?” Carey asks. “What can we do to--to slow them down or get some kind of stronger signal?" 

Taako speaks up, voice like gravel in his throat. “Maybe we could figure out where they’re going to teleport beforehand and meet them there.”

“You think we could set up a trap?”

Taako tips his head in Davenport’s direction. “It’s what they did for us, isn’t it? How hard can it be? Besides, they’re running out of places to land a building that big; eventually they’ll have to double back to places they've already been. If we set up teams in all known locations and then spread out to any place big enough that they haven’t landed at yet, it’s gotta turn something up.”

“That--” Barry cuts himself off, contemplating the map, before nodding slowly. A light appears near the Stillwater Sea and Taako’s heart fills his mouth. He almost misses Barry’s next words. “That might just work. It would be easier if we had an extra pair of hands, Kravitz, to figure out where Lucretia’s soul is. The signal would be stronger. Did you find anything useful to you yet?”

“I--” Kravitz darts a glance at Taako and Taako trembles but clamps his lips shut against the sudden surge of bile that rises in his throat. He slips a hand under his shirt and is surprised to find he doesn’t immediately burst into flames when he touches worn, soft parchment. It feels even worse to give it up to Kravitz’s waiting palm, like he’s losing yet another piece of Lucretia, no matter how disgusted he is with its contents. “I have. Taako help me under--understand what it was.” 

Lup’s sharp eyes snap to her brother’s face when Kravitz’s voice cracks. Taako knows he’s not at one hundred percent right now with Lucretia’s blood all over his shirt and his hands and probably in his hair too. His ears are pinned against his skull, twitching, and the tendons in his neck creak under the strain of how hard he’s grinding his jaw. But he thinks maybe she is seeing something more, something in his eyes, probably, that makes her reel back a step and look at Kravitz like the list might bite. She even reaches out and clutches at Barry’s arm, drawing him back a step too, but Taako just shakes his head.

“No magic, it's just,” he has to clear his throat. “Just something I’d rather not talk about, but it’s...it’ll be strong enough.” And then, to the others, when he catches Avi and Carey’s bewildered expressions, “She cared about it, and I guess Krav can sort of track her through the emotions she tied to it or something.”

Lup does not seem convinced. The others don’t either, really, and Magnus and Killian and Davenport look like maybe they’re going to press him on it, or ask Kravitz to open it and show them, but Avi pipes up before anything dramatic can ensue. “So, can you do anything with it?”

Taako has never loved Avi more. There is absolutely no way he can continue explaining exactly what Lucretia thought them all capable of to the rest of the group. Not now. Perhaps not ever. It all sticks in his throat, makes him want to dry heave and cry at the same time. It’s hard not to get angry--how could she think them capable of hating her that much?

How could she not realize what it would do to them--what it_ is_ doing to them now-- if Lucretia disappeared?

But Taako has been asking himself that kind of question for days, has been chasing that singular thought around and around in his head, wondering and wondering and wondering and he’s so very tired. He just wants Lucretia back. He just wants to bring her home.

_ What happened to all that anger, elf boy? _

_ I grew up,  _ Taako thinks, worn out.  _ I grew up. It only took me like, a week, tops. Lup would be proud. _

Barry takes the parchment gingerly, and Taako can see Lup’s fingers tighten on the bend of his arm, but he’s more focused on Barry’s face. He’s pale as a sheet, eyes round and lips parted. He looks like he did just before he became a lich for the final time, when he realized they were going to lose absolutely everything. It's sweet, Taako thinks in some distant part of his mind where the horror doesn’t quite reach, that he’s so terrified now for Lucretia rather than of her. 

“What’s--” Barry chokes and unfolds the paper. He can feel it now, what Kravitz told Taako he could sense. Taako watches as Lucretia’s hopelessness and longing and despair wash over his family and he can do nothing to stop it. A tear tracks down Lup’s perfect cheek as she stares at where Taako knows her own name rests. The number two spot must smart like a bitch.

_ Whatever we do, we can’t let Davenport know he’s at the top of that damn list _ , Taako realizes, and he edges just a little closer to their old captain.

Magnus and Killian both ask for an explanation, but Taako still hasn’t quite gotten over the ringing in his head since he realized what the list meant to Lucretia. They sound tinny to him, like gnats flying around his head. He has to shake himself, feeling like he's stuck in some gods-forsaken nightmare.

His brother-in-law's voice cracks, but he remains still as stone. “It doesn’t matter what it is. This will do just--” Barry’s face twists, hard, and Taako swallows the lump in his throat. “Just fine. We’ll find her with this.”

Lup nods, looking worse than Taako’s ever seen her, even before she left without a proper goodbye. “We could probably pinpoint her next most likely location with how strong it is.”

Barry lays the list out, careful like he’s holding a newborn fawn, and spreads his fingers over it. Barry’s palm is large enough to cover all of the names on the list and Taako has never been more thankful for anything in his life. Kravitz and Lup both step up to his sides, so that the three Reapers are lined, shoulder to shoulder, over the map of their world. Kravitz and Lup overlap Barry’s fingers with theirs and all three press in, eyes glowing. Their robes whip in a wind none of the others can feel and Lup’s hair dances around her. Their mouths shape the words of a chant no one can hear, faces contorting and twisting in ways that let the bones underneath come close to piercing through skin. 

All the other lights in the room go out. One by one, the pinpricks of Lucretia's past locations wink out too, until the only light in the darkness is three pairs of deadly eyes, clouded with bright white. In the back of his head, Taako can hear ravens cawing, faintly at first but growing louder and louder as the reapers lean over Lucretia’s last, most important, plan.

And then a single light bursts into being on the map.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been uncomfortable writing this fic recently, since it does depict harm coming to a person of color. I have been trying the entire fic to bring dignity to Lucretia's character while exploring the themes I have and I hope that shines through, since her inner strength is what draws me to her the most. However, as always I will remind readers that this fic can be very triggering, especially because of the violence towards a character of color it depicts. Please tread carefully.

“You took _everything_ from me.”

Lucretia tips her head, acknowledging. “I know.”

It is funny; for all the years she spent deceiving and deflecting and obscuring her true self, the truth comes easier than she’d thought it would. It hurts less on the way up, too.

Daniel is so young. His face goes blank from shock for a moment before hardening. He wants to seem older than he is, more experienced. He wants her to be scared. Lucretia smiles at him, bland and shakes her head ruefully. She is too tired to be afraid.

The old magic she felt in the temple swells then and Lucretia leans on the wall at her back as she loses her footing. The building shakes, the very foundations groaning, before settling with an awful grinding noise. The faint sounds of the waves crashing on the cliffs of Neverwinter, which were so quiet Lucretia hadn’t even known she was hearing them, cut off abruptly. 

Well. Maybe she’s a little scared.

Daniel’s lips turn up. He jeers at her. “You thought you would always have the upper hand didn’t you? Well, we showed you different.”

It’s something in the way he holds himself that makes her do it; something in the way his shoulders are pitched too sharply back, something in the way his knees are locked, something in the way he’s careful to keep his feet spread to shoulder-width, something in the way he won’t meet her eyes for more than a few seconds makes her mouth open before her brain catches up.

“Is that why you are so afraid of me, Daniel? Because you think I believe myself to be all powerful?”

His sneer turns to plastic at the edges. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never,” Lucretia vows. “What did you do to the building?”

“Teleported it,” Daniel snaps back. It is only after Lucretia nods thoughtfully and glances at the slit window that he realizes what he’s done. “You’ll never be able to Counterspell it; we’re using magic too great for even the amazing Lucretia of Faerun to control.”

“There are a great many things I cannot control. It’s something I’ve been working on accepting, actually. You might like to hear about it.”

“I don’t. I wouldn’t. I’m done hearing about you.” But he pauses, bated breath. “Don’t you want to know why we’re doing this?”

It is Lucretia’s turn to smile. Her manacles chaff past the fabric she’s woven around her raw wrists. Her head pounds, but she smiles anyway. “If you’re anything like me, my friend, I have no doubt you’ll want to tell me whether I say anything or not.”

“I am nothing like you.” He spits at the ground at her feet.

“Maybe not totally like me,” Lucretia concedes. “I would’ve aimed for my face. But yes, I’m afraid, in other ways, you are quite like who I used to be.”

“_No._”

“No? Tell me, then, if I’m wrong about you: you’re young and you loved your family with your entire heart but you were unsure what to do with your life. Talented and intelligent but without a sense of direction, am I correct so far?”

Daniel’s face twists. He looks ragged and a little shattered, almost. She’s dredging up things he’d long since thought buried. Lucretia would pity him if she didn’t think he’d be incredibly insulted. 

“You don’t know me, witch.”

“No, but I know who _I_ was, and that counts for something. I loved my family and I had little direction. And then something happened; a group of people came to me and said they could give me that. They took me into a beautiful place and told me I could use my smarts and my cunning and any magic I possessed--which at eighteen wasn’t a lot, just so you’re aware--and they told me I would be helping people I loved. So I said yes.” Lucretia looks down. Her hands are older than they should be, and worn. She is--_has_ been withering away and she has done nothing to stop it. 

She is doing something now. “And then I lost my family and friends and everyone I ever knew. I did everything I could think of--sometimes I did horrible things, I made terrible mistakes--everything in my power to bring everyone back. And it was not enough.”

When she looks up, Daniel is slack jawed. He pulls himself together but Lucretia sees it. She smiles once again and knows it does not reach her eyes this time. “Sound familiar?”

“I am not your friend,” Daniel says, sounding a little faint. He gains force though. “If you knew what it was like to lose everyone, then you shouldn’t have tried--done whatever it was you did with the barrier that let The Hunger destroy so much of our home. You should have stopped it. You should have been better.”

“I have told myself the same thing countless times.” Lucretia agrees. She steps forward, carefully, and Daniel doesn’t seem to notice. Her right foot slides forward again and he flinches, so Lucretia backs off for now. _Can’t be too hasty._ “I admit that I have hurt so many people; people I loved, people I hated, people I didn’t even know, I have hurt them all. I was always trying to help my loved ones, to get them back so we could be together the way we once were, but hurting people never worked in my favor and it should not have even been an option. But Daniel, I have something very important to ask you.”

He’s upset, baffled, more likely to slide a dagger in between her ribs than to listen to her, and yet the young man still answers. “_What?_”

She tilts her head, catches his eyes with hers and recognizes the guilt she finds there. “Are you talking about what you wish I’d’ve done differently,” she asks gently, “or are you perhaps speaking about someone else?”

He twists away from her, hands running through his hair. “Shut up, shut up. You’re--you’re lying or messing with me, I shouldn’t listen--”

“I could’ve done so many things differently. I know that now, Daniel. But I didn’t. And you could’ve been so different, but you aren’t. I am so sorry for what I have done, I always will be, but that does not change the fact that I did them. In the end, all I have is who I am today, in this moment. All I can change is what I do, myself, in the future. I cannot control you. I cannot control my family or your friends, or the fate of the world, or the will of the gods, or the tides of the seas. All I have--all you have, Daniel--is the ability to change myself.”

“You’re not going to change my mind!” Daniel rages, turning back. She’s advanced on him while his back was turned, pushing her advantage, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “The others, they told me how you were responsible for all this loss and pain and--and they were my _family_ and they’re _gone!”_

“Yes.”

“_They’re gone!_” Daniel screams. For a moment he looks ready to strike her, but his fists fall more softly than Lucretia would have expected on her shoulders. He raises and lowers them slowly, tears streaming down his face, tapping at her gently where he should be punching. “They’re gone, _they’re gone_ and if--if you know what it is to lose someone--if you_ know_ and you--you weren’t trying to--”

“It is hard,” Lucretia says quietly, “when your monsters wear a face you recognize.”

Daniel sobs. His knees give and he collapses against Lucretia, sagging. She hooks her arms around him on the way down. He shakes apart in her grip and Lucretia allows her own tears to slip through. Just a few, though; it would be unseemly for the Director to cry before she is freed. 

_I don’t fucking want this,_ Taako had said.

_Two more weeks. You’ll live for two more weeks,_ Lucretia had promised. _Then you know what has to be done._

_No,_ Lucretia thinks, tired beyond belief. There is something bright in her chest, some light that has only flickered on in the last few hours, that jumps at the thought._ I have come to realize I don’t know jack shit._

It is only when footsteps approach from outside that Daniel draws away. He sniffles, gasping. His face is flushed, dark skin turning darker, and he looks slightly embarrassed. “I--”

“Not a word,” Lucretia promises. 

His face blanches for a moment, before his eyes turn frantic. The boots outside sound heavy and numerous. “They’re coming to kill you.They want--want to make a spectacle of it, for--revenge or--or--”

“What do _you_ want Daniel?”

“I--I don’t think I can kill you.” He admits. He’s wringing his hands, looking like a schoolboy who has been caught and will be punished. “I thought if I could get closure or--but you’re a person and you--you wanted to die, that first day, didn’t you?”

Lucretia tilts her head.

“That's why I couldn’t do it without talking to you. I thought maybe it was a trick but--it’s not. You--you’re just a person.”

Lucretia can see the cogs turning in his head, sees him doing the math, but it is not enough; a second later, the butt of a spear slams into the back of Daniel’s head and he drops like a rock.

The small spark of hope--_that’s what it is, that’s what it is!_\--extinguishes and Bella meets Lucretia’s eyes with a grim smirk. Two other members of the Ragged Harmony flank her; an orc man and an elf both sneer.

“He never was a big picture guy,” Bella says. “Time for your big show, Director.”

The temple rumbles again beneath their feet, as if in agreement. The three of them need to brace, but Lucretia is already on her knees, stable. Something bold and resigned curls in Lucretia’s chest as she glances down to see Daniel’s blood pooling a little on the stones. She is not free. She is hurt and has been thinking about death for months. Her mind is warped and her limbs feel like lead and Lucretia’s heart hardens at the realization--the bizarre, fantastic, sudden realization--that she _does not want to die_. 

“Forgive me if I don’t go down without a fight,” she replies, and, focusing solely on what Killian insisted on teaching her in the old days, sweeps her left leg out quickly.

Bella goes down with a shout of surprise. Lucretia has to stop herself from automatically reaching for her staff, which is somewhere back in her destroyed quarters. Instead she rolls on top of Bella and rabbit punches her twice in the face. It’s not graceful, not dignified, and worst of all, it’s weaker than she would usually be if she’d been taking care of herself. Her ribs ache. The new skin on her stomach threatens to split, and yet Lucretia still manages to rake her fingers like claws over Bella’s face--something soft gives under her nails and Lucretia wants to cringe away but instead hooks her fingers in _deeper_\--before the other orc lifts her, struggling, into the air. The elf pulls the shackles on her wrists tight, forcing Lucretia’s arms behind her, and the orc drops her heavily to the floor.

Lucretia’s knees buckle. She kneels, panting. When she looks up, Bella is already on her feet, spitting mad. But Lucretia curls her lip anyway, the other woman’s blood splattered across her cheeks and throat; Bella is missing an eye. 

“You can’t say I didn’t try.” Lucretia gets out before promptly being struck in the head.

She doesn’t fall unconscious, exactly, but she’s limp in the male orc’s arms as he drags her out of her cell. The world is hazy, swimming before Lucretia’s eyes even as she tries to do more than flop like a dead fish. The elf keeps hold of her chains; Lucretia can feel when they get too far behind the orc when the chains jerk her back suddenly, forcing her downward before the orc rights her with a grunt.

Before she can truly regain her senses, the very air around them shifts, becomes less stale, flows around them instead of being still and oppressive. The temple rumbles again. Sound filters into her ears and this is what lets Lucretia finally begin to piece reality together again. There is shouting, stomping, screaming. It is not afraid, no; this is a revelry, a party. This is a happy occasion.

_Oh joy,_ Lucretia thinks, and opens her eyes as she is lowered to her feet. She sways, the colors of the world ripping into her retinas so sharply she almost closes them again, but she does not need the elf’s extra yank on her chains to stay on her feet. 

_If I die,_ Lucretia thinks, as she stares out at a roiling mob, thirty or more strong, that all celebrate at the thought of her demise, gathered in a huge circular stone temple room, staring at her on an altar,_ I will die on my feet._

The stones of the temple are old and fading; whatever mosaics were on the walls, they have long since eroded into fine lines barely discernible from the rest of the walls. The ceiling towers over them, coming to a peak fifty or sixty paces up. The altar Lucretia stands on is more of a raise dais. The elf is behind her, radiating heat and rage and gripping Lucretia’s manacles tight so that her wrists are crossed and she cannot perform magic. Light filters in weakly from broken windows high overhead. The space is packed, creatures of all races heaving to and fro and hemming each other in. A few reach out to touch the base of the altar she is on only to draw back when her bleary eyes meet theirs, hissing or spitting or jeering. Her ears ring and Lucretia feels she might faint; that knock to the head is small trouble compared to the rest of her injuries. 

But there is no more time for Lucretia to get her bearings, to come up with a cunning plan and cheat death one last time. The Raven Queen always collects. The bill always comes due.

A hand grips her chin from behind and forces Lucretia’s head back. The fingers clench tight under the hinges of her jaw and Lucretia has to admit it’s a smart move; she’d have tried to bite them otherwise.

The cold of metal presses at the fragile, thin skin of her throat. Lucretia doesn’t need to be the smartest person in the realm to know a knife when she feels one against her carotid artery. 

“Lucretia of Faerun,” Bella says, voice booming over the cacophony before them, “the Ragged Harmony collects your debt.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: canon typical violence, blood, some mentions of people dying. Mentions of depression and suicide.

The seven birds have prepared for war too many times. Taako's throat closes up at how easily they fall into formation.

Merle and Avi depart to the clerics’ wing, either to rustle some feathers for the identity of the traitor or to get supplies for the coming battle. Taako isn’t too sure which. He doesn’t bother trying to clarify. 

His sister is polishing her own wand, making sure her arcane focus is ready for anything. Magnus checks his own weapons beside her, face drawn and wan. The big guy hasn’t said much since Taako and Killian’s argument and it makes guilt twinge in Taako’s chest. He knows in that moment he meant his words to be cutting, meant to hurt and punish and make them all feel what Taako’s been feeling since he showed up days before. But now, faced with Magnus looking like his entire view of the world is falling apart in front of his eyes, it makes his stomach turn. Still, Taako says nothing; it doesn’t matter now. Nothing he says will make Magnus feel better, not until they get Lucretia back and Magnus can see the damage for himself. That’s just the man he is.

Killian and Carey have left to get transportation ready. Barry holds up the map, shrunken to fit in his hand now; his other hand curls into a fist around Lucretia’s list as he stares at the bright lights still pinned to the parchment. Kravitz, for once in all the time Taako has known him, does not seem to know exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s not pacing like Davenport or fidgeting like Lup and Magnus. But he presses his back up against the wall near the door, looking for all the world like he’s a second away from bolting. Taako sympathizes. 

“What happens if they teleport before we get down there?” Taako asks dully, nearly forcing the words from his mouth. It feels like all his energy has drained from him. His feet fuse to the floor, no more nervousness or anger or even fear to make his blood boil. Is this what Lucretia always feels? No wonder she couldn’t get out of bed.

Barry barely flicks a glance in his direction.

“The list and the other reapers amplified my own magic for now,” he says. “As long as I have them as back-up and this--” he raises the list and Taako watches a look of revulsion flit across his brother-in-law’s face-- “I can hold the spell and watch their movements until we get there. Carey is sending Bureau members to stake out other possible landing spots like you said we should, but I don’t think we’ll need them.”

Davenport perks up from where he’s been staring into space. He was wringing his hands before. Taako wonders if he feels Lucretia’s blood on them like Taako does. At least Davenport’s is imaginary; the elf reaches up and swipes rusty, blood-dyed hair from his face, grimaces when it sticks to the skin of his throat. Old sweat creases his clothes. He hasn’t washed since he was trying to hold Lucretia together in the palms of his useless hands. At this point, his skin may be stained with her blood forever.

Maybe that’s fitting.

“Why not?” Davenport’s voice drags Taako back to the moment.

_Focus, Taako. You’ll only get this one chance to save her._

_I know, _Taako bites back. _I know. Gods, I know. _

“We’ll set it up just in case,” Barry relents. He turns more fully to the two of them and Taako knows they are all three ignoring the way his voice is shaking. It’s so funny; there’s just something about knowing Lucretia wants-_-wanted, please, for the love of all that is holy, please let it be wanted_\--to die that makes it so hard to stay murderously angry with her. “It was a good idea, Taako. But these lights, they haven't moved in the last few minutes. Just half an hour before--hell, ten minutes even--they’d disappear at least once every three minutes if we were lucky and the teleportation was taking a long time. Their margin of error has been increasing incrementally. We’re up to every twelve minutes. The last location was a doubling back too, which means they’re running out of spaces big enough to land the building, like Taako said they would.”

“Where are they now?” Taako asks, too tired to even puff up in pride. 

“How long have they been there?” Davenport asks at the same time.

Barry unfolds the map in his hands, turning it around for them to look. The same light that burst into being under his sister’s fingertips stares accusingly back at Taako. 

“Like I said, they've been stationary for about twelve minutes so we’d best get a move on if we want to catch up before they move again. Assuming they _will_ move--whatever they’re planning, it will probably happen fast. As for the location--” Here Barry pauses, shifts his weight, and Taako steels his spine. Whatever is coming, it’s going to be another blow to them, he can tell from the way Barry won’t look at anyone’s faces. “Same place they started in. Near the town in Refuge.”

Oh gods. It couldn’t be. Not Istus’s temple. 

_She wouldn’t allow it, would she?_

But Taako remembers she was weak when she met them and had been deteriorating for a long time. It wouldn’t take much to break her bond to the temple. Not much at all. And he would also know there are schools of wizardry that should never see the light of day, deep and complex and roiling with spells to bind and unravel and unmake and trap. Things he’s seen in texts and old scrolls and promptly burnt out of his own head for the sake of continued sanity. 

Behind Barry, Taako sees Lup’s blonde head go still. There’s a clattering as Magnus’s weaponry tumbles to the floor.

Taako turns, hands up and mouth open--but what can he say? What can he say in the face of Magnus’s abject anguish? Magnus’s expression twists before Taako’s eyes, his hands clenched into fists. His brow puckers and his mouth clamps shut into a thin, unbroken line. His scar seems to stand out even more against his pale face. It looks almost as if rigor mortis has set in. 

“Is this--” his voice grates at Taako’s ears and Davenport winces. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I doubt they even know how important Refuge is, Magnus.” Barry sounds as tired as Taako feels. Just hours earlier it would have sent Taako flying into a rage; what right does he have to feel so tired? He hasn’t been here, not like Taako has. He hasn’t seen the destruction and the depression, and he hasn’t had the horrifying realization that he’s the only thing standing between an old friend and certain death. He doesn’t have the right.

Now, Taako seals his eyes shut against the way Magnus looks, tries to deafen himself to the way Lup’s breathing is ragged and loud in the still room. It’s all just this side of too much.

“That or they thought it would be poetic,” Lup mutters bitterly from the corner she’s set herself up in. Magnus’s choked off noise is hard for Taako to ignore. “That’s what they said they were, right? Lucy’s _fate_.”

“_Lup_.”

His sister looks up and Taako blinks, vision wavering as he looks at her, perhaps from fatigue, perhaps from grief. It has been a long time since he’s seen Lup cry. He’d almost forgotten she could do it.

“Sorry, Dav.” she whispers. “Sorry Mags. It’s just--I’m sorry. Stupid thing to say.”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Davenport returns just as the door flings open again. Lup climbs to her feet, the last one standing, as Merle and Avi enter. “We’ve got to pull together and get this done. The sooner the better. Avi?”

“Killian and Carey will meet us in the transport room. We’re taking one of the old globes down. They’re the fastest way,” Avi reports. “Not the safest though, so you know. Watch out.”

“I don’t need to be wasting healing spells before we even get into a fight.” Merle agrees. He’s never so grave. Taako swallows, and, against his usual nature, reaches out to squeeze the dwarf’s shoulder. Merle’s eyes are so old when they meet his. He softens after a second and raises his hand to cover Taako’s and squeezes back.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” Davenport says, businesslike, and something in Taako’s chest eases if only the slightest bit, “let’s go pick a fight.”

_We may be too late_, suggests a doubtful voice in Taako’s head. Thankfully, he has long practiced the art of not thinking.

The ride down is cramped and stuffy and too silent. It crawls across Taako’s skin, but something has fused his jaws shut tight. Killian’s arm brushes up against his and Taako looks up; there is steel in her eyes. She nods. He nods back.

Refuge is just as Taako remembers it; small and quaint and just a little too dusty. They’ve arrived just outside the town perimeter yet again and Taako knows without looking that Merle and Magnus are shaking themselves from deja vu as well. 

Seeing the settlement outside of the bubble at dusk is a new sensation though. If it were any other place, any other time, with any other people, Taako might stop to admire how the lights twinkle against the fading light of the sunset, how the pinks of the last of the sun mingle with the blues of the coming night. He might take Kravitz’s hand or sling an arm around Avi’s shoulders or ruffle Merle’s hair so much they get into a stupid argument. He might sit quietly and watch and wait for the night to turn the air moist and calm and silent around him. He might breathe easy, for once.

Instead, Taako moves on. 

He takes the lead with Merle and Magnus by his sides. The grit of dirt shifts under his boots, grounding him in a way he learned from Magnus a long time ago. It feels almost as if they’ve been thrown back in time again, here in Refuge with their hands on their weapons and their friends behind them. The unknown, yet again, looms over their adventuring group. They're all so quiet Taako can hear their breaths as they move. 

The streets of Refuge are quieter than he’s ever known them, but they still don’t go through the town square. Magnus pulls forward, strides loping with a strange grace, as he leads them around the outskirts of Refuge. It wouldn’t do to attract unwanted attention. The shadows slip over them as Merle raises his hands; Taako can just pick up the words as he mutters the incantation for Pass Without a Trace. 

_Good. No one needs to know we’re coming._

_Do you think Lucretia is waiting for us? Or has she lost that much faith in you already?_

No. No. He can’t think that. Not yet. Not now.

“They’ve been stationary fifteen minutes.” Barry’s voice carries on the wind and Taako sends thanks to Istus, wherever she is, that she allowed them this time. They’re nearing the temple, coming around the back, and he can see evidence of a large group; horses are tied up outside and there are a couple carts with supplies abandoned around the edges of the property, as if a large crowd was working and suddenly all got called in for dinner. Footprints litter the ground, crushing vegetation wherever it tries to rise from the cracks in the earth. Merle must be having a fit.

The temple is fitted with two large, arching back doors, slats of dark knotted wood looking like a black void against the lighter stone of the temple. One door is hanging just slightly ajar as they emerge from the shadows, and Taako thinks he may be able to pick up the sounds of revelry somewhere deeper inside if he strains his ears. “Whatever they’re planning, I’m betting it’s happening now.”

“We’ve got to be fast,” Lup replies, unnecessarily. She only babbles when she’s nervous.

Taako’s muscles scream with tension as Magnus shoulders the doors open. The fighter is silent as he does it, his rogue training making it easier for him to slip inside without a sound. Merle comes next, hands already raised to cast whatever spells he needs to get to Lucretia. Taako follows, heart clogging his throat.

But the hallway before them is large and entirely empty. This place looks much bigger than Taako knows it used to be; whatever the Ragged Harmony are doing--and they can all hear it now, the sounds of feet stomping and bodies shuffling and some deep, rhythmic chanting shot through with shrill cries of excitement that put his teeth on edge--they must have needed more space. He’s got to hand it to them; creating some kind of pocket dimension inside an ancient temple of the goddess of fate must have been hard to pull off. 

“They’re deeper in,” Magnus whispers. He hefts Railsplitter in his palms. Carey darts past, Killian not far behind as they scout up ahead, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Merle shifts beside him as Taako twirls his wand. The soles of his feet itch, his mind shrieking that they’ve wasted too much time already, that they have to run, that somewhere in the cacophony ahead, Lucretia is waiting, hurt and going to be hurt worse.

_Do you really think you’re going to go in, guns blazing, and be big damn heroes this time? You’re weak and fallible and ripping apart at the seams. No one can save everyone. _

_But we can save her at least, _Taako tells himself. It isn’t very convincing. _We can save her._

Lup and Kravitz have taken posts next to the exit, hands raised as some kind of white energy flows from their fingertips. It encases the whole archway, roiling around the doors and sealing them off. When the light fades, the doors are gone, replaced with smooth stone. If anyone runs past them, they won't be getting away.

Davenport takes point then, Avi bringing up the rear as Taako’s sister and boyfriend flank him. Magnus joins Davenport and pulls his shield, readying himself to take the first hits as they move forward. Killian and Carey are around the next bend in the strange, over-long hallway, and they’re flanking two wooden doors, similar to the ones outside. The sounds of the crowd are getting louder, stifling in the oppressive silence of the rest of the temple. It does not feel as though Istus is here any longer.

“In here.”

“We get in, get Lucretia, and kill whoever is in our way. Let’s be fast, everybody.”

Davenport nods to the women, and the doors are thrown open. 

Immediately, Taako feels a burst of heat as Lup lets flame rip from her outstretched hand over his shoulder. It flares into the crowd before them--Taako counts three, maybe four goblins to his right, a human man who may be a warlock in front of him, two elves behind the warlock, three jeering orcs to his right, and that’s all he’s able to get from behind Magnus’s broad shoulders-- and screams go up over the chanting and shouting.

His sister does love to make an entrance.

Despite the fear clenching at his heart Taako feels his lips draw up into a mean smirk. This is what he’s been waiting for, this is what he has wanted for so long. Violence tears through him, makes his blood sing with ferocious intent. And he thought he'd been too tired. 

Taako is the world’s best wizard, and he will make the Ragged Harmony _wish_ they had never set foot in his realm.

Magnus’s war cry goes up as he charges, and light flashes, smoke rising as Merle lets loose a spell that makes two orc women go up in ash. Behind him, Taako can pick up the deadly slice of Kravitz’s scythe as it swings through air, and then a dull _thunk _as a body drops. He knows Carey is ahead when one of her knives impales the warlock through the eye. The human screams, whirling, and magic flies from his hands blindly. It shatters part of the roof, sending stone cascading down on all of them. A goblin is crushed, and Avi yells from behind Taako and grabs him roughly. He pulls Taako back two steps and they barely have time to register the large boulder smashing into the ground at their feet before the mob is on them. Avi pulls his spear and whirls into the fray, away from Taako’s side as Taako casts Shield on Merle, who he can see sending Thunderwave out in the center of the room. The floor rolls under his feet but Taako rocks on his heels and holds his ground.

He can’t keep track of everyone for long, not when two goblins bear down on him and Taako is instinctively swinging his arm up, the tip of his wand blasting fire just the color of his sister’s in their faces. Someone strikes at him then; he can feel the tip of a blade slice through the back of his shirt as he throws himself forward, out of the arc of their slash. But when Taako whirls around, snarling, Killian is there, standing over a dead body and pulling one of her own knives from it. She grins. He bares his teeth too. She ducks as Taako blasts electricity at an elf who was swiping for Killian’s throat with an ax. There are so many of them--how big was this conspiracy? How many would have come for Lucretia’s head?

An arrow plants itself into the stone behind him and Taako howls his own war cry, a spell forming at his fingertips. Magnus slams Railsplitter into two people in front of him, twists out of the way of a third strike that would’ve snapped his spine in half and--

The path of the battlefield is clear for a moment. That is all the time Taako needs to find Lucretia’s eyes.

She is up on a dais, an altar to Istus, desecrated with blood and violence. Taako’s stomach curdles. Lucretia is bruised and bloodied; there is a cut above her right eye, blood pouring down the bridge of her nose and her temple. Her arms are restrained by an elf whose smile looks like the edge of a knife. There is an orc just behind Lucretia. The orc is screaming, face twisted around a broken nose; she’s missing an eye, even more blood sheeting down her face than Lucretia’s and Taako has enough time to be smugly satisfied. He hopes to hell Lucretia did that.

Lucretia’s eyes are unfocused, and she looks confused--concussed then, or maybe just surprised that a battle has broken out so suddenly. She sways and shakes her head and catches sight of Taako, face haggard and eyes overbright. Her mouth opens but Taako wouldn’t be able to hear her over the roaring of his own blood, never mind the fighting.

The fight distracts him. He blocks a blow to his head with an elbow, ignoring the way his bones shudder, and drives his wand into the air to cast another spell. He must look away then, if only for a moment, to make sure he doesn’t get his head lopped off. But their group is shoving their way towards Lucretia, Lup’s fire and Merle’s spells helping Magnus and Killian and Davenport push their forward advantage as Kravitz and Avi cover their backs. For a moment, hope leaps in Taako’s chest, and then he catches sight of Lucretia again, clearer now with Magnus and Barry managing to clear their way of enemies. He sees all of the altar now. He sees what he missed before.

_“No!”_

But his denial does not lift the dagger from her throat. Taako only has time for a wordless scream before it descends and blood rips into the air.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an incredible amount of violence and blood in this chapter. Trigger warnings for death and grief as well as loved characters doing some pretty questionable things to others out of grief. Once again, please heed the tagged warnings. 
> 
> In other words, we've come to the climax folks. Buckle up.

Lucretia doesn’t even feel it when she falls. Warmth spills over her throat, soaking wetly into her soiled collar. _I’m wearing white_, she thinks. _It’s going to stain_. Laughter inexplicably bubbles up in her chest but cannot make its way out of her throat. She gasps once, sharp, and then the world tilts funnily and she’s lying on her back, arms crushed awkwardly beneath her. There’s movement around her, people running and fighting and she can just glimpse the aura of the Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom out of the corner of her eye. Things are getting fuzzy, though, sort of far away and indistinct like she’s trying to look at the world through a layer of mist. The fog in her head Lucretia just managed to shake off in her prison cell floods back in.

It would be so easy to give in. _Do it,_ says that weak voice in her. _Do it. This is what you’ve wanted. Just think about how nice it will be to rest._

Lucretia has never been one to sit on the sidelines. She gasps again, straining to keep consciousness. Her deaths in the cycles were almost never messy, simply quick and clean, or, if they were drawn out, were out of starvation or dehydration or the like. She never really ended up covered in her own blood. It’s sort of a novel feeling, if terrifying. She strains again, searching for air, for space in her lungs, for a way to reconnect her brain with her body and_ get out of here._

Someone is leaning over her now. The tip of a blond braid tickles her cheek. _Oh_, Lucretia thinks, unable to find her voice. _Hello, Taako. Fancy meeting you here._

Taako, coming in and out of focus, looks wrecked. There’s dirt and blood splattered across his cheeks and neck and he’s taken a blow to the head at some point; his hairline at his right temple is a rusty red. She moves to touch it and gurgles in pain when her bound hands twist under her back. Taako’s mouth is moving but her hearing is going a little crazy now, all tinny and sharp at the same time, like someone is rapidly lowering and raising the volume in her head. After a moment, she is lifted up and Taako’s hand clutches at hers before the chains slip from her wrists. Immediately, her magic floods back into her veins, but even as it sparks in her heart, Lucretia knows it is too late. She’s never been a healer.

Taako’s face twists. He’s leaning close now (maybe holding on to her? Lucretia isn’t sure; she can’t feel her limbs enough to be sure how she is positioned) and his face takes up most of her vision. His brow furrows and tears track through the dirt on his cheeks. 

Even as she fights to breathe--and really, isn’t that so funny, that it took this to make her realize she wants to live after all--Lucretia summons the strength to raise a shaking palm and plant it clumsy against the side of his face.

Lucretia rolls a death save and contemplates that this may not be such a bad way to go.

_ Five. _

~

Taako isn’t sure how he managed to get to Lucretia before Magnus or Barry. By all means they were ahead of him; hell, Carey should have been ahead of all of them. All he knows for sure is that he’d seen the knife go down--then red-red-red as the blood spat forth as if from a spigot--and Lucretia was looking at him and the orc was screaming and the elf was laughing--and he-- 

He doesn’t remember much after that. But Taako can feel the exertion of his journey to the dais in his strained muscles, the way his magic feels depleted and sorely lacking. He’s used most of his spellslots then. Maybe he should be more worried about blacking out in the middle of a battlefield but Lucretia--_Lucretia_. 

Lucretia is in his arms, crumpled like a broken doll. Lucretia is in his arms, struggling to breathe. Lucretia is in his arms and she is dying. He can feel it, maybe the way Barry can feel the dead rising or Merle can feel the living hurt. Taako can feel the way she’s fighting against whatever reaper is dragging her soul to the afterlife. Some angry thing in the back of his head shrieks at the idea that the Raven Queen would give some random reaper care of Lucretia when she died--Kravitz should get that honor, or Barry or Lup. When the day comes--_not this day, not this one, please_\--then one of theirs will guide Lucretia to rest. No one else. _No one. _

“Lucy, come on.” His own words reach his ears. He can’t be sure how long he’s been talking, hasn’t realized he even was. She’s in his arms again, just like she had been--this morning? Afternoon? Taako can’t tell how much time has passed since his Rope Trick, it’s all such a blur. “Hang on, okay? Just hang--hang on, Lucy, you can do this. You’re gonna be fine, just fine, okay? But you gotta--you gotta fight for me. Fight this, Lucretia.”

She’s choking on her own blood now, her head settled into the crook of his elbow. Taako holds her like a child, settles her half across his lap and closes one hand over her throat. The liquid still flows, sluggish now, through his fingers. He’s so sick of being covered in her blood. Taako can’t even seem to hear the fight still going around them; he could be struck from behind at any moment and Taako would never see it coming. The shouts of their friends and their enemies seem so small now. Nothing matters but the pulse beating wildly under his fingers. He has to keep it going. He has to keep measuring it, because if he doesn’t--if he takes his hands away--if he's distracted for even a moment, he could lose her. Taako could lose Lucretia. 

He’s been working so hard to keep her.

Lucretia rolls. 

_ Fifteen. _

Taako only blinks out of the haze that has settled over him when something touches his cheek. He looks up from where he’s entranced by the gore of her neck--_please, please, not now, not now, not ever, he’ll give anything if he just doesn’t lose another person_\--to meet Lucretia’s gaze. Her brown eyes as soft and warm, near liquid as she fades under his palms. It’s different from when she laid like this last time, closed off and resigned. Her palm feels papery and soft. She’s not trying to leave him; her eyes tell him that much. But there’s a dry acceptance there, a flickering candle allowing itself to gutter out, that Taako hates. She doesn't want to leave, but she is ready. 

“Don’t you give up on me, Madame Director.” Taako snarls. His words catch as his breath hitches. Air whoops into his lungs, stalls in his throat before gusting back out. He tastes blood and isn’t sure if it’s his or hers. “You--you owe us, right? You owe me. So do this for me: _stay alive_. Stay with me, Lucy.”

She rolls again and Taako clutches her close.

_ Eleven. _

“Come on, come on,” he whispers into her hair. Her palm rests on his face, a benediction. “Come on. That’s it. Keep fighting. You have to stay, Lucretia. You have to _stay_. I can’t lose you too.”

Her next roll takes longer and he can feel her ribs against the forearm he has wedged under her back, expanding shakily before pausing. She lets her air go. She stops moving. Her face twitches for a second, expression going blank and a little confused. Lucretia isn’t looking at Taako now, but _through_ him, and he doesn’t like whatever she sees. It puts a glint of fear in Lucretia’s eyes. “No no no,” he hisses, hysterical. Taako shifts her against his chest, shakes at her shoulder enough to snap her back to the moment. “No no, come on. Don’t--don’t--listen to me, Lucretia. Merle’s right here, okay? He’s right here and so is Barry and you’ll be fine, okay? Just, please--just--you have to  _ stay _ , Lucretia. You have to stay because--”

_ Natural one. _

Taako’s words die like ash on his tongue. 

Lucretia’s palm slips from his cheek and makes a dull thump as it hits the stone. The noise is swallowed by the sounds of the fight dying down behind their slumped forms. Taako’s throat is closed, his mind blank, as he stares into her vacant eyes. Lucretia’s face is slack now, that strange fear giving way to a dreadful peace in her expression. His stomach flips, then drops through the floor. He can’t think, doesn’t understand. She was just--she was just here. She was there, in his hands. He had her. _He had her._

  
  


Lucretia is gone.

A body jostles his as Merle slides to his knees beside them. Taako has gone numb. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts except the cavity in his chest Lucretia left when she ripped out his heart and took it with her wherever she is now. She’s gone and Taako can’t follow. His fingers flex but he can’t feel anything but pins and needles. He should close her eyes, right? He should--that’s what they do on t.v., and he’s Taako, you know, from t.v.? He should do that but then Lucretia would probably feel weird with him touching her face but probably not since Lucretia is dead and won’t ever feel anything ever again. 

Merle’s voice buzzes in his ears and now there are other figures in front of him. Someone pries at Taako’s fingers where he’s clutching her body--it’s Lucretia, not her body, she’s here somewhere, he just has to find her--and Taako snarls, snaps his jaws like a crazed dog. Someone backs off but another person hauls against his shoulders and Merle is holding onto Lucretia--to Lucretia’s corpse, _oh Gods_\--and Taako has to let go. It feels like his ribcage cracks open.  He writhes for a second in whoever’s hold it is before his vision slowly returns to him, lets his eyes pick up on things that aren’t Lucretia, dead on the floor. It’s Lup, it’s Lup who has Taako in her arms; he recognizes her hair, just like his, as she holds him. He shakes in her arms and he guesses she’s sobbing against his back. His mouth tastes foul. He thinks he may vomit soon. 

The orc is lying a few feet from their clumped group. Her one good eye is open, her head turned towards Lucretia, face still screwed up in a dying scowl. The Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom is cleaved through her abdomen straight into the stone below. He feels a flash of righteous pleasure but then he catches the edge of Lucretia’s blue robes in the corner of his eye, and then Taako really is sick to his stomach. He hopes muzzily that Istus will forgive them for desecrating her temple. 

Lup’s hold on him loosens as he loses the contents of his stomach, for which Taako is grateful. He can barely breathe as it is, he can’t fight against the weight of both his emotions and hers too.

And then something catches his gaze. There are a few stragglers from the Ragged Harmony fleeing; he can see them now his back isn’t turned, can see how Kravitz is the only one not with their group on the dais, instead taking the initiative to go after the rest of the enemy with extreme prejudice. The silver point of his scythe is fascinating. It cuts through Taako’s numbness, makes him come to the present. The tackiness of the blood all over him, the way his ankle screams like he’s broken it, the way his wand digs into the small of his back where he shoved it into his belt when he’d reached to catch Lucretia--

The elf who had been holding her dodges out of Kravitz’s reach and slips out the double doors. 

Taako tears after them without thought.

Things go hazy again but Taako can remember bounding across the room with incredible agility if he tries hard enough. He skips over bodies and weapons and ducks out of Kravitz’s reach as his boyfriend tries to clasp him around the arm. The end of the elf’s long hair whips out of sight around a bend as he skids into the hall but Taako is made fast by the grief and anger--pure rage, stuff he hasn’t felt since Lucretia admitted she took Lup from him and now Lucretia won’t be around to make mistakes and fuck up her apologies ever again. He sprints after them and hurtles around the corner, wand out and ready.

The elf is at the end of the corridor, brought up short by the disappearance of their exit. Their robes, white and stained now by Lucretia’s life blood, twist around their knees as they whirl to face him. 

“You killed Lucretia.” The sentence punches its way out of his chest and the world is too blurry, too colorful and colorless and he tastes metal and the air is crackling and everything is so, so overwhelming that Taako can’t even enjoy the terror in their eyes. “You took her from us.”

“We- we did what was right,” they say and Taako’s anger flares out of him, a snapping, popping web of electric power that sweeps the room in pale light. They keep talking. “So many of our families-- people we loved-- died because of her. She didn’t do anything to stop them dying. Wasn’t Lucretia supposed to bring back balance? Now she has.”

Taako’s mind whites out for a long, long time. 

When his brain comes back online, he’s moving before he can even register it.

“She’s _ my family _ ,” Taako howls. “You fucked with _ me  _ and _ mine  _ and now you’re gonna _ pay." _

Flame wreathes the elf and Taako watches, dispassionate and consumed by rage all at once, as they scream. Their flesh nearly melts off the bone and Taako stands still and watches, wicked thrills going up his spine. His head is clear and foggy at the same time. His stomach tries to revolt at the smell but he pushes it back and looks on as they are reduced to so much dust. His grief claws at him, demands more, more blood, more viscera, more penance. He will find all of them; Taako is going to skin them one by one, and make the others watch. He will make them recite Lucretia’s favorite poems and break a bone each time they get a word wrong. He’s going to find whatever each member of the Ragged Harmony loves most and _murder it._

And then he’ll do just a little more. For Lucretia’s sake. She was always so thorough, after all.

The cavity inside of Taako yawns ever wider. 

"I love you," he finishes without Lucretia there to hear him. "You have to stay because I love you."


End file.
